


Align The Stars

by Merkey666



Series: Danger Days [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blood, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, Happy Ending, M/M, Sickness, Sort of? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7881598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkey666/pseuds/Merkey666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone blew up part of Battery City. Now homeless, Frank and Gerard flee the city and land in the desert. They have nothing, and Mikey and Ray have been left behind. And they learn to kinda fucking love it. (For a while at least.)</p><p>Part one of my Killjoy AU trilogy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This will take a really long time to complete, but once it's done, the other's following it will be quick. I wrote them in a weird order, Two, Three, and then One. Anyway, it's kind of a mess, so bear with me. I have a plan.

Prologue-

We were sitting on the couch in our shared living room, lounging around because we had nothing else to do. We couldn’t see our parents. We still had three more days until that day came along. It only happened once a year at best. Until we all had kids or died, and then we would never see them ever again. That’s how it went. No love allowed. 

I was staring at the little circles painted on the walls. Gerard had painted them a year back when we first moved in. They were black and plain, but we were allowed to keep them. That’s what mattered to him. He liked the pattern because it was all we had. The apartment had come issued to us from the government, and we weren’t allowed to make any changes to it, which had been terrible because it was colorless and bland and ugly. Ray was sitting upside-down on the other couch, kicking his feet at the ceiling. Mikey stood by the window, overlooking the streets way down below. Our place was only a few streets away from the hospital in the center of the city. Gerard was fiddling with the radio, which only played static. He’d been working on it longer than any of us could remember, and he’d gotten nowhere. None of us had gotten anywhere. A little crackle was spat out from the speakers in the walls. You couldn’t escape the announcements. 

“Citizens of Battery City, this is an announcement- due to recent events it is mandatory that all color must be disposed of. All clothing, furniture, and anything else that may be colored must be erased immediately. If you do not do so, you will be relocated to the psych ward. End.”

I looked down at my black Iron Maiden shirt and shrugged. That wasn’t too much of a problem for any of us. Music had been outlawed years ago, and t-shirts were the best thing we had. That’s why the radio didn’t work. Ray looked up.

“What recent events?” he asked, throwing an artificial rock in the air and catching it again. I shrugged again. Gerard put down his screwdriver and wiped his eyes tiredly. 

“Nope. Nope nope nope. Not this time,” he sighed, leaning back into his chair. Ray looked over at him and laughed.

“What do you mean, ‘this time’? You wanna go and live in the psych wards? Or what? The zones?” he chuckled. Gerard rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe. It has gotta be better than this. This sucks. Coming here was such a bad idea,” he groaned. 

“Gerard, we’re not colorful people. This isn’t a big deal for us!” I raised my voice subconsciously. He ran a hand through his greasy black hair and sighed. 

“I know that, idiot. Something just seems wrong. This is extreme. I don’t like it, you guys,” he replied, pulling the entire room into the conversation. He always got his right of way in debates like this. With me he had no right of way. He grumbled something under his breath I didn’t catch. He waddled on his knees over to me and collapsed on the couch next to me. 

“Well, what do you think you can do about it, huh? Nothing. That’s what,” I hissed. He nodded and laid across me like a blanket.

“You need a fucking shower, Gee.” I grumbled, messing with his hair. Ray hopped up and bolted to the bathroom.

“Dibs!” he called, disappearing behind the corner. I rolled my eyes. I looked over to Mikey, who was still standing by the window silently. 

“Mikey, what’s up? You good?” I asked, shoving Gerard off my lap and walking over to him. He kept his eyes glued to the streets far below. The speakers crackled but no sound came out. 

“Look,” he whispered, pointing down to the streets. Amidst all the black and white cars puttering down the streets, one was different. It was brightly colored. It had a spider on the painted hood, which was probably once beautiful, but now it was worn down and dusty. Which means it could’ve only come from one place: the zones. There were people out there. Or at least there was something. The car stopped, and a person popped up through the sunroof. They pulled out a cherry blossom pink gun and chucked something into the air with their other hand. The car turned around and begin speeding towards the front gate. The person fired their gun, hitting the object they’d thrown into the air. There was a flash of white light before the shockwave hit.

****

I couldn’t open my eyes. There was too much dust strung in the heavy air, making it difficult to breathe. My arm was pinned under something. I assumed it was the couch. My left sleeve was soaked in something, probably blood. Muffled sirens were screaming from the street. I swiped aimlessly at the muggy air in front of me. I needed to cough but I didn’t want to make any noise. I opened my eyes, black circles surrounding me. I must’ve gotten slammed into the wall by the impact of the blast. There didn’t seem to be anyone around me. There was a large piece of ceiling plaster pinning down my left arm, and I used what little strength I had left to push it off just enough to free myself. I was alone, but I shouldn’t have been. I looked around, frantic. The vamps hadn’t gotten to our floor yet. 

“Gerard..” I mumbled, disoriented. I cradled my left and and used my right to push myself up. I started to smell smoke, and the sirens were sounding less and less fuzzy. I fumbled over some loose pieces of stone and smashed furniture. My mind was scrambling to figure out who those people were. An image fluttered back to me. A warning poster about the roamers in the zones. I stumbled over a smashed chair to see Gerard crumpled in the corner.

“Ger…ard… W-wake up. Come… C’mon. We need to g-“ I wheezed. “We need to go,” I whispered, shaking him. He moaned and looked up at me. Blood oozed from his head. 

Something happened in that moment, in that pained look. I shook it off.

“Go,” I whispered again as I held out a hand. He grabbed me and pulled himself up. He was limping. I wiped my eyes, smearing ash across my face. I heard the distant sound of Mikey yelling, and Gerard hobbled towards the noise. I turned my attention towards the blocked pathway to the bathroom where Ray was. I scuffled over towards the mountain of rubble. I reached out with my right hand and started pulling back rocks. I yanked and yanked but it didn’t seem to matter. There was just no way I was getting past that pile. 

“Gerard, help,” I wheezed. The air was beginning to feel harder to breathe by the minute. He rummaged over and began to tear rocks off the pile. Soon enough there was a large enough gap where the doorway used to be for me to crawl over. I jumped over the barricade and fell onto the dirty floor. My left arm shot out as a fail-safe, connecting painfully with the floor. I shouted out in pain, and slowly pushed myself up.

“Ray? Are you okay?” I asked, holding myself up on the door knob. The scene before me was horrible. Rubble was everywhere, the shower was still spraying out of the broken pipe, and Ray was covered in soot. Some of the rocks closest to where he would have been standing where thinly coated with blood. I gasped and lurched over, gagging. I fell to my knees and threw up. Little pricks of glass shards bit into my knees and the palms of my hands, slicing through my skin. I spat a few times, clearing out all of the remaining bile from my mouth. I wiped my mouth and reached for the door knob. My hand connected with the metal handle, pushing the glass deeper into my hands. I gasped and took a deep breath. I pulled myself back onto my feet and tumbled through the doorway. I stumbled around the corner, trying to to focus on my bleeding from my knees. Gerard swallowed around his panting and gave me a sullen look. 

“Mikey?” I asked faintly. He nodded and gave me a semi-hopeful smile. It quickly faded as he asked: “Ray?” 

I gulp and look him in the eye. He cupped a hand to his mouth and started to hyperventilate. Small, unbelieving tears made little streaks on his dusty face. He made choking sounds for a few seconds, before he suddenly looked up to me.

“We need to run away,” he gaped.

“What?” I shouted, throat scratchy from the ash in the air. Guns were suddenly fired in the next apartment over. Gerard looked at me.

“Closet,” I commanded. He nodded and ran for Mikey. I yanked open the closet door and tried not to think about the blood dripping off my fingers. Gerard appeared with Mikey under his arm, and crammed himself next to me. Mikey moaned unconsciously, as the door exploded inwards. Gerard cupped his hand over Mikey’s mouth. The intruders slowly crept in, kicking rubble out of their way. There didn’t seem to be too many of them. Most of the footsteps slowly reached the other side of the complex, towards the bedrooms and bathroom. I held my breath. 

“Body!” One of them shouted. Gerard closed his eyes, as another tear dripped down his dirty face. Mikey stirred and turned his head over. 

“Hey, get the gurney! This one’s alive!” Gerard perked up. He stared at the door, eyes welling up again. It could’ve been sadness, happiness, worry, I don’t know. He was feeling something. 

“Hey, wait! This is a four person complex! Where are the other three?” one of the intruders asked. Gerard and I stared at each other. The heat in the closet did nothing for the situation. Mikey’s eyes flew open and he flung himself out from under Gerard, smacking into the back of the door, which I was luckily holding shut. It made a loud noise, which echoed through the nearly silent complex. Gerard cupped his hand over Mikey’s mouth again. One of the intruders stepped quietly closer to the closet. Sweat beads began to appear on each of our foreheads. Gerard removed his hand from Mikey’s mouth and pushed the two of us a little away from him. We stared at him, clueless. He batted my hand off the doorknob, which I recoiled from. Pain shot up into my hand and I hissed out a breath. The doorknob began to jiggle.

“We need to run,” he whispered. The door opened, and before the thing could say anything, Gerard swung his fist at the person. The person screamed and Gerard, still limping, bolted. Mikey and I looked at each other for a split second. We had one second to make a decision we could never take back. We knew that. And still, we ran after him.

We reached the open front door and looked out both sides to see where he’d run. Gerard was nowhere in sight. Mikey ran left and I, left with really no choice, followed him. He had many large gashes in his legs, but ran regardless. We ran down the stairs at maximum pace. I looked down over the edge, and halfway to the bottom, was Gerard. He stopped at our footsteps above and looked up. He heaved a sigh of relief when he recognized up and continued down the stairs, two at a time. The intruders shouted at us from way up above, where our apartment was. One fired a shot which landed where I had been standing a second earlier. I yelped, and picked up the pace.

After ten flights of stairs, and possibly an asthma attack, we reached the bottom. I heaved deep breaths, but didn’t stop running. We didn’t have a choice. Instead of running straight ahead not the street where it would’ve been easier to lose the intruders, Gerard took a sharp left and down into the basement. I would’ve asked what the hell he was doing, but I didn’t have the lung power for it. I ran down the stairs into the basement, letting Mikey in, and locking the door behind him. I took off again after the two. Gerard swerved in between cars, until he spotted one with the sunroof open. He quickly looked behind him, before jumping up on top of the car and sliding through the sunroof. He kicked the chair back and yanked open the control panel under the steering wheel. He desperately looked around for something to cut the wires with. Somehow, he had managed to pick the one car that was government issued. This car was completely abandoned. He sent Mikey a worried look, and then bit the wire with his teeth. The wire ripped in half, shocking him. He pulled out another wire and ripped that one in half too. Another jolt ran through him, some of the bubbles on his skin cracking open and bleeding. He wiped the backs of his hands on his pants and connected the two broken wires. A shout rang out from the end of the garage, as the car puffed out a jet of black smoke from the exhaust pipe. The doors unlocked and we climbed in. A gunshot rattled the car. 

“Drive!” Mikey shouted. Gerard put the car in reverse, and slammed on the gas. The car rammed into a couple of the people. To my disbelief, he smirked at his possible murder. Then, I smiled too. This might be the worst thing that had ever happened to us, but it’s also the most fun. He put the car into drive and took off towards the exit. Another shot hit the car and the trunk opened. I burst out laughing, as he pulled out of the garage and into the sunlight.

We zoomed through the crowded streets, hitting as few people as possible. The hospital and, therefore, our building, was right in the center of the city, in the most protected area. Also the farthest from the wall. There was a large wall surrounding the entirety of Battery City, keeping out the so-called ‘vermin’ that had just bombed the city. I could understand why they called them vermin. And we were driving straight into the jaws of death. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Saturday afternoon. We’d made it past several guard stations that I didn’t even know existed until then. The last one fired shots at our car, which meant word was getting around. The bridge was just up ahead of our car, and the doors were yet to be shut. Mikey sent Gerard a look, to which Gerard didn’t return. He had a murderous scowl on his face, and the way he clutched the steering wheel made his knuckles turn white. The speed dial on the car’s dash said we were going a little over one-hundred miles per hour. Definitely outside the speed limit, and hopefully, if luck prevailed, outside city limits in a matter of minutes. So far, the bridge door hadn’t been shut from the intrusion. We passed the final guard station, and hit the car. We swerved dangerously close to a couple pedestrians. Gerard struggled to stay in control of the vehicle, and the smooth pavement wasn’t helping. There was either something thrown on the road, or it was just naturally kept squeaky clean, which I doubted. There was a large ‘Thunk’ and the doors of the wall began to move.

“Floor it!” I screamed. Gerard slammed his foot on the gas and the car lurched forward, making concerning noises. People’s figures rushed past my window, and I heard Gerard suck in a breath. Suddenly all the people disappear and are replaced by wall. Mikey let out a squeak and Gerard exhaled slowly. I tried my best not to lead on that I might’ve been bleeding out via my knees and palms. A large clank rumbled along the walls of the tunnel as the final door up ahead began to move.

“Gerard, keep on it!” Mikey yelped, holding onto the handle above his window. He had a death grip on it, and it almost looked a little painful. The car continued accelerating towards the slowly shutting gate, until at last, we sped past it. Bright sunlight hit the car and shone off of the hood. The car toppled over small rocks in our path. 

“Stop,” Mikey whispered, a look of horror and determination spreading across his face. Gerard sent him a look and kept driving. He slowed his speed, but kept moving forward. I had a gut feeling we weren’t safe yet. 

“Stop,” Mikey repeated. Gerard shook his head and kept his eyes on the yellow lined road before us. Mikey gulped and opened his door.

“Mikey!” I shouted, as he leapt out. Gerard looked up and through his rear view mirror. He braked so hard my face slammed against the headrest. The tires squealed and the smell of burning rubber slowly coated everything. I leaned back, gently wiping some blood from my nose. Gerard flung himself out of the car and made his way as fast as he could towards Mikey. His limp did a number on his gait, but he surged forward despite his serious injury. I unlocked my door and clambered outwards. I watched the scene begin. Mikey sat up as Gerard reached him. He hadn’t fallen too hard, and the car wasn’t moving obscenely fast. His had numerous scrapes and burns, and good chunks of his skin was missing on his arms and legs, but other than that, he survived relatively unscathed. 

“Mikey what the fuck was that?” Gerard heaved. The wind howled loudly in between his words, giving everything said out here and whirly mystical and oddly lasting edge. 

“Ray is alive. We gotta go back for him,” Mikey grunted, hauling himself back up onto his two legs. Gerard stared at him incredulously.

“Are you insane? We barely made it out, how to hell do you think we’re ever getting back in?” he retaliated. Mikey hobbled back over to the car. Gerard followed him, spewing accusations and obscenities at him. I sat on the trunk of the car. I looked over only to see Mikey unlatch the small drawer under the dashboard, passenger side. He rummaged around for a couple seconds before pulling out a little pocket radio, similar to a walkie-talkie. He slammed the door and cringed. He massaged his shoulder for a brief moment before walking over to me. He shoved the radio in his pocket and lightly pushed me off the edge of the car.

“Mikey… What?” I asked, trying to regain balance from my little head rush.

“I almost had to work for those people, I know how they work. They might seem fearless.” He turned to me. “But they’re all the more cowardly for trying to seem fearless.” He snuck his hand around into the corner of the trunk and pulled a small lever I hadn’t even noticed. The floor of the trunk popped up, which he lifted off. Gerard appeared next to me, looking confused and concerned. Inside the hidden area of the car was an emergency blanket, a larger and more reliable looking radio, a small jug of water, and a pack of beef jerky. He rummaged around through the items, still not explaining to us what the hell he was doing. He turned back to face us, apparently content with his findings. 

“If there are people out here, they’ll find you. This’ll hold you until then, I hope,” he grunted. 

Gerard looked mortified. He looked at his brother in agony. 

“Mikey… Don’t do this. We’ll be better the three of us. Don’t risk it,” Gerard pleaded.

“Ray is our friend, Gee. I’m not leaving without him,” Mikey replied. 

“What if the people out here kill us?” I asked. Mikey turned and pulled me into a hug.

“Then I’ll see you both in hell,” he laughed. I smiled at him, letting go of his shirt where I had tightly clamped my bleeding fist. He wheeled around to Gerard and hugged him too. Gerard sniffled a little as Mikey released him, and for a moment Gerard seemed much younger than Mikey. Mikey nodded at the two of us, and whisked around back towards the doors. 

Unsurprisingly, the doors still hadn’t managed to shut. Mikey easily slipped through them, right before they connected with a thud. Gerard stood there and stared at the door, through sad and nervous eyes. Mikey was gone, and so were we.


	2. The Kids From Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Death-Defying is as welcoming as his wanted posters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This series is gonna be a little slow. If you want something that comes out a little quicker, check out Death Of All The Bachelors. I'm honestly loving where I'm taking this, and I've actually already written a second and third story for this, so hang on with me. It'll be worth it.

Neither of us know how to deal with this swift and horrific change of events. I compile a list of things I know are true in my head. Ray is hurt. Not dead, but hurt. Mikey went back for him. We’re stuck out here. Gerard is holding my hand. He squeezes my hand, which I don’t recoil from because I’m too emotionally numb to feel any real pain. Which I know is stupid because I have wounds that definitely need to be looked at by a doctor, so I’m not really doing myself an good here. A shaky and unsure sigh sweeps through my lips. 

“Ger-“ I start, but I don’t need to finish. He doesn’t let me. He shoots me a quick look, which I only catch the front end of because he smashes his bruised lips onto mine. Maybe I’m too unstable to understand this, or maybe I’m in need of close contact, but either way, I take this for what it is. A kiss. So I kiss back. My other hand melts into his oily hair which he still hasn’t been washed. Maybe this dust bowl will suck some oil out of it. I don’t need to bite at his lip to make him open his mouth, because his sore jaw is already providing an entryway for me. I lick gently at the roof of his mouth, which he seems to genuinely like. I digress. His other hand has found it’s way to my shoulder, and it lays there, resting. Waiting. My instincts tell me to bite down on his lip, but it was already so beaten up that I refrain from it. I don’t want to cause any pain. 

“Frank…” He whispers against my mouth. I pull away slowly, trying to absorb every last moment of that high I just reached. I open my eyes and see his mellow hazel eyes looking back at me. Sounds start creeping in again. The howl of the unforgiving wind, the occasional bird caw in the distance, and the sirens from inside the city itself. 

“I love you.” He says with such nonchalance, that it almost sounds like a normal thing, coming from him. But the sincerity catches in my throat. Where his tongue just was. One of my feet shoots back, in preparation to run, like a scared little boy on the schoolyard. But I stay. I don’t know why I’m staying. Possibly because I have no where to run to. Possibly because he’s my friend and I want to accept it in a friendly way, but most likely because I think I’m in love with him too. And I think I’ve known it for a long time now. I pull my aching foot back towards my body and stare back at him. Behind his eyes I can see he’s scared. Scared of everything. Because right now, everything is scary. I lean forward and wrap my arms around his back. He hugs me back, tightly. Not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to feel safe. I turn my head in towards his neck and place and kiss there. There’s nothing I can do out here except for accept it. 

“Yeah…” I whisper. My nerves catch in my throat and it doesn’t sound the way I meant it to sound. I sound scared. I am. Oh god, I am.

We pile back into the car, and for the second time, I sit in the back. The front seat is blatantly open, and yet I don't want to sit there. It feels like Mikey’s seat now. I lay down in the back, taking up both of the seats. Even though I’m short, I’m not short enough to not have to bend my legs. 

“Where do we go now?” I ask, as he starts the car. It buzzes and then starts. 

“Dunno. Mikey said the people will find us. I guess we just… Drive?” He replies, slowly driving farther out into the desert. Fantastic. 

The steady bustle of the car is keeping away all those angry, stress provoking doubtful thoughts, like, ‘What the fuck Frank. What the fuck.’ Mainly just that one, because I’m not nearly as creative of a person as Gerard is. The old car’s engine rumbles, sounds fluctuating above the mirage in the distance. Everything is fitting together. I guess in order for things to make sense, everything has to fall apart first. Interesting. I lean forward and fiddle with some of the knobs up front, looking for the air conditioning. Cause it’s too damn hot. Gerard doesn’t take his eyes off the road, and definitely not helping me look for the air. Talking would probably help, but I have nothing to say to him right now. Letting things fall into place is easier than talking. I smash my fist against a knob in the corner, and hot air blast through the vents. 

“Agh!” I shout, and twist the knob all the way south. Slightly cooler air, radiates into the car, and Gerard rolls up the windows. My eyes drift over to our small supply of rations. My heart bubbles and sinks a little. I should feel way worse, but I have confidence about these ‘Desert People’. I also have confidence in Mikey. I don’t have confidence in time, however. 

“Frank we’re gonna die.” Gerard sighs, sounding surprisingly fond of this new idea. I look over at him and raise my eyebrows.

“No we’re not, Gee. Mikey’s gonna get Ray, and in the meantime, we’ll find these people. They know how to find us!” I contend.

“Clearly, as they blew us out of the city!” He retaliates. I scoff.

“I could really use a good blow.” I laugh. His trip tightens around the steering wheel. My ignorant smile fades, into his constant frown. 

“Killing the energy, killing the mood, killing everything. Try harder.” I grumble. I know Gerard’s limits and I just passed them, just as Gerard passed the speed limit. I lean back and try to block out his screaming at my like a parent. I let out a dry cough and lean back. The sun is at about high noon now, which probably makes the dirt outside feel like the pits of hell. I look to my left and press two fingers onto the glass. The glass is hot, but not hot enough to burn my fingers. Just enough to make them feel like they’re glowing. I cough again. I remember something. There cars can go above the speed limit. There’s a checkpoint at ever MPH marker that locks onto the car, disabling it from going above. Just another way to keep citizens in check int Battery City. But out here, things seems different. I don’t think this car should go above the speed limit, but the dials just keeps climbing higher and higher. Paralleled with Gerard getting angrier and angrier. I unclip his seat belt, and yank on the emergency break. The car swirls out of control and I throw myself out of it. Gerard follows, before I even hit the burning hot ground. 

He crash lands on top of me. We tumble over the gravelly black pavement for a few seconds. Nails, rocks and other desert items dig into my skin, causing little red spots of blood to appear everywhere it wasn't already showing. Gerard skids a few feet farther than me. I ended on my back, and I intend to stay that way. Gerard breaths heavily for a second, before hiking himself up and crawling over to me. The hot grounds burns any open flesh, and is starting to sear away at my clothes. His hands must be frying. If that even was so, he’s giving no indication of it. He stops next to me and hovers there. His shaky elbows buckle and his head lands, with a great ‘Oof!’ from me, on my stomach. 

“What… the fuck… was that?” He wheezes, clutching his chest gingerly. If he broke something, that’s all on me. From just down the road, the car blows its top. Flames erupt from the body and soon, it molds into the mirage. I look away and stare at the puffy white clouds. If you only look up, and black out the rest of the wasteland, everything seems a little bit more okay. What could go wrong with clouds? Everyone loves clouds. These ones come in all shapes and sizes. 

“Our only food and water was in that car.” Gerard sighs, letting out dry sobs. Crying takes energy, and I really don't have any of that right now. 

“We can go dumpster diving.” I suggest. Now he too looks up to the clouds for help.

“Not when the dumpster’s on fire.” He reminds me.

“Killing the energy…” I repeat, smiling a tiny bit. He matches a little. 

“After.” I say instead. He nods against my chest and shuts his eyes. Good idea. The colors fade away into black, like an old movie. No birds, no clouds, no brush, no sand, no mountains, no sun, no car on fire. Only black and the sounds I can still bear to hear. I don’t care about anything else. Slowly sounds fly away too. Then, suddenly I hear,

“After.”

~

I guess I must’ve fallen asleep, which wouldn’t be hard to believe in the slightest. Battery City is still a vibrant memory in my head, sticking out against my new surroundings like a sore thumb. Even more vibrant, is the blasted sun, veining its way down to us. Gerard is gone. His weight is lifted from my stomach, but the warmth his black hair brought remains. 

Clank!

I sit up, startled. Gerard is buried halfway in the smoldering remains of the car. I’m at his side in a split second, and I don’t even remember getting here. He smacks his head on the top of the window he is craning into. He shouts some profanities as he pulls himself out of the car.

“Anything?” I ask, pathetically. He shakes his head and slouches down the side of the obviously very hot car. He sits on the ground, back pressed up against the car. He suddenly yelps and pulls himself away from the practically melting exterior. Not even the faintest giggle escapes my lips. Too much fear is flocking to me like ravens over a corpse. Somewhere overhead, real ravens caw. Maybe that’s a warning sign. I shudder. Gerard massages his back tenderly, a thoughtful and concerned look on his face. He turns it up to me and stares.

“Mikey said they’d find us, right?” He asks, but a darker tone suggests he doesn’t really think anyone will find us at all. 

“That’s what he said.” I reply, but my voice is just as nihilistic. Gerard runs his battered hands over the stifling asphalt he’s seated upon. He jerks his hand away suddenly and turns up his palms, only to reveal a rather large piece of rock imbedded in his flesh. It doesn’t seem fresh, and it most likely the result of his trying to shield himself from the blast with his hands. I can’t pull my eyes away as he digs his cracked nails under his skin and pulls the pieces of rock out. My toes curl, and my neck shivers but it’s so transfixing to me. He seems satisfied with his rock-less palm, and extends it for me to help him up. I carefully grab his bleeding hand and tug him up. I take just one quick, blissful moment to stare at him, before turning to the long road in front of us, both metaphorically and not. There is no line we have to cross to know we’re gone for sure, no test we have to pass, no training we had to endure. There is only the north, south, east, and west, and which way we turn to walk. 

“Ya think there’s any chalk buried in some flame resistant compartment in the car?” He asks, sounding momentarily light hearted. I hate to burst the bubble he’s trying to blow, but I need to get out of my skin and just move.

“No, Gee. But the people might have some.” I suggest.

“What people?”

“The one’s we’re walking to.” He nods.

“Which way?” 

“Forward, I guess.”

I take a step, and hold my breath. I keep holding my breath until I can no longer hear the ravens crying out.

 

~

The road is far and long, and has more patience than I’ll ever have. It’s endless and unwavering despite the heat. My body, unlike the road, is breaking own from the heat. I’m sweating endlessly, my dripping hand still clasped around Gee’s. I didn’t notice I was still holding his hand until the car was out of sight. If Mikey ever finds it, he’ll have a hell of a time figuring out what happened. I’m having a hell of a time trying to figure out what happened and I saw it all with my own two eyes. I guess that’s just how it goes out here.

The sun drips down the mountain peeks, settling a warm glow of the expanse on desert gravel and succulents. Some people I once knew called it a valley, but it’s not. Not really. A valley entails that there are mountains on at least two of the side, somewhere. Unless they’re really far away, this isn’t a valley. Gerard watches the sun as we walk, and I watch Gerard. He blinks from the light pounding down on us, like a cat lazily watching a mouth being electrocutes by a light. If I’m the moth, he’ll have to wait a while longer because as the sun sets, the temperature drops. 

The temperature in the city at night always felt so much warmer than this, but I’m getting the feeling that everything I felt back there was fake. Maybe it’s the weather, or maybe it’s Gerard’s hand touching mine, but everything out here feels so much more real. I don’t know if I’m saying that the city is fake, but I think maybe it was. Maybe the wind is filling me up with ideas. I wish the wind could fill my stomach. I’m starving. Every few moments one of our stomach’s will growl and we’ll squish our hands together hoping nothing out there hears us. 

It takes a long, long time for either of us to break. When Gerard finally drops to the ground, I’m worried he might be dead. I kneel down next to him and suddenly I’m on the ground. Maybe I passed out. 

“Frankie…” he whines, grabbing my hand and sighing in the cold air. 

“I know. I know, Gee.” My aching body jolts and freezes as a shrill howl rips through the sky like scissors on tissue paper. A coyote, not far away. More respond and Gerard looks at me. Growls waft over to us, and suddenly I know. We’re not gonna make it through the night. And if we do, for some miraculous reason, we won’t survive another day with out food. It’s the end. Gee and I are walking hand and hand into the pits of hell.

A blast of light tears open my pupils and I loll my head back onto my shoulders. Judging my the amount of noise, I’d say it’s a car. 

“Well, well, well, look’s like you all came from the pits of hell, hell, hell,” a voice laughs from the driver’s seat. The person holds up a gun suddenly.

“I’d say no sudden movements, but that train left the station long ago. As is, I don’t even know the line you’re riding. Hm…” The voice is strange. Somewhat girly, the person can really hit the notes, but it doesn’t sound like a girl. It feels off somehow. There aren’t many female vamps, and my mind is beyond fried. Who knows? Gerard pushes himself up on an elbow. 

“Can you-“

“Hop in, jackrabbit. Baby back’s got some ribs I think you’ll find neat-o. You rascals’ll fit in just starlight, if I do say so myself and I very well do.” they purred, tapping their fingers on the steering wheel. There’s a click of a seat belt, a creak of an old door, and one loud, definite gun shot. I jolt up, fingers holding onto Gee’s, and pray they don’t go cold. The headlights point down the road away from us, leaving Gerard shrouded in the damp stickiness of night. Luckily, he grabs me back and relief floods me like a river in spring. Not that I’ve had a decent spring in a while. Or that I’ve seen an actual river in a while.

“I can hear your melon rind a’ bustling. Why’ I waste ammo reaching for the stars? Well, let me tell you- I’ve got some pals coming along and they’re just gonna be over the moon when they see you two city rats, hence my firing at the moon, so they can jump over it. Just making l-i-f-e a lil’ bit easier, ya know?” No. I don’t know. I’ve got no fucking clue what this person just said. None. 

My lack on comprehension doesn’t seem to affect the person, as they sashay over, loop their arm around mine and Gee’s and pick up both up. The three of us hobble back to the car, and one small feature eases my load of worry and guilt: The car doesn’t have locks. The person drops us into the back, and kicks our doors shut with their foot. Even if I had the energy to escape, would I really want to? This person could help us for crying out loud. They could also butcher us, but we’ll die out there anyway if we’re alone. Even if I had the energy…

“So, let’s go round the circle. I’m Show Pony and that’s just about it. I don’t have the ribs I tongued up, but I got another lil somethin’ under the seats,” Show Pony laughs. “Trick or treat!” Thank God I’m not wearing a seat belt. I might’ve broken it with the force I shoot forward with. My fingers are so numb from pain that everything I touch all feels the same. But there’s a click of a latch releasing or something like that, and a large, smooth something falls onto my hand. I sit back up and look it over. It doesn’t look like food. It’s a white can with writing I can’t make out on it, and that same fucking logo that’s on everything back in the city. Fuckin BL/ind. 

Maybe it’s Show Pony and the car and the way it all speaks to me, but a burning hatred of BL/ind wells up in my stomach and comes pouring out through my eyes. Or maybe it’s just my hunger. The point is I’m crying and I don’t know why. Gee brushes my hand with his fingers, not able to do much more than that with his limited amount of strength. Show Pony takes a quick breath and stops the car. 

“Hey now, rock star. Eat up, both of you. I’ve got outcast outcasts for you to meet and you wanna be able to hold your own. Doctor. D isn’t the kindest person you’ll ever meet. He’s a real meat heart. Nothing sweet about that, if you ask me.” Show Pony takes the can out of my shaky hands, and in one quick movement, rips the top off. He hands it back to me and smiles a smile that acts like a bandaid. Too bad a bandaid cant fix a broken leg. 

I don’t know what the flying fuck I’m even eating, but I’ve reached far past the point of even caring. It tastes like food and I don’t think this person is gonna poison us, so it’s good enough for me. And Gee, apparently. Show Pony hasn’t handed us any silver ware or anything yet, and from the way he started the car up a few moments ago, I’m gonna say he doesn’t have any. So many of my emotions have been turned into I don’t care’s, and ya know what? I don’t even care. 

Unbelievably, other cars veer out of the charcoal desert and fall into line behind us. Maybe Show Pony was right about the moon. Gee’s foot is tapping to the music the other cars are playing while he struggles to open another can of food. Music always came so naturally to him, and so Battery’s rules hit him hard. 

“Assault and Battery,” I laugh quietly. Gee looks at me, confused. I shake it off and he smiles, looking out into the night. The way his foot taps to the music and his fingers tap off beat tells me he’s thinking about things that aren’t as happy as the music. Scary things. Like the kiss, and where we’re going. Like Mikey, and Ray’s fate. Like leaving Battery City and knowing we’re never going back. My fingers are tapping too. 

“Party time,” Show Pony whispers, pressing hard on the gas and speeding up as a light begins to appear in the distance. The gas revs in my ears, and I feel like I should be coughing from the gas, but the car is clear. The light ahead swells as we accelerate, hitting rocks and other things that I’m sure didn’t move ever again after out encounter. 

 

“I hope you two caught a few z’s back there. Wouldn’t want you taking a swan dive right down to your toes.” The more Show Pony talks, the less I understand. On the other hand, I’m not even sure Gee is breathing. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back and just that little acknowledgement tells me this isn’t the end of us. Right now though, a word splits our temporary trust right down the middle. 

“Ready?” Show Pony asks, slowly taking his foot off the gas. The blend of cacti and rocks outside tear apart, differentiating from the rotten gobs of sand. The stars in the sky are little and bright like little needles being poked into our world from a much brighter one. One quick lurch forward, and the ride is over. He steps out, no need to unbuckle since he never buckled in the first place. Like a chauffeur, he opened the door for both of us, zooming around faster that reason. 

“Ticket please?” he asked, winking. I don’t know how to respond, and before he demand anything else of me, a loud shout rings out.

“Show Pony! The Doc wants you to- What’dya got there?” someone asks. He turns to us, grimacing. A lousy wind bristles his apparent foul mood. He spits at the wind. 

“Sit tight. I got some incapable frogs inside to attend to,” he sighs, racing forward on roller skates. I don’t want to think about the drive anymore because I’m pretty sure he was wearing those while driving. Fantastic. 

Gee turns to me, eyes watery like literally nothing else here. Before I can say anything, not that I would’ve because my mind is about as blank as the desert we’re stranded in, he turns away. Frost climbs its way up from the tips of my fingers, but refrains from reaching my palm until Gee makes up his god damn mind. Either he’s the biggest douche in the entire world, something he isn’t known for being, or he’s incredibly daft, cause I keep trying to grab his hand and he keeps itching his arm or picking at his nails or pulling his hair. I guess I understand why his nerves are blowing up, mine are too, but I really don’t see why he suddenly lost his peripheral vision. 

The desert only amplifies the loneliness that I feel now that Mikey and Ray are gone. Lonely, cold, tired, pained, and scared. And then the cars pull up. Once again break all my expectations, the people exit their cars happily. They’re jumping, shouting, shooting at the sky, which Gee winces at every single time. Besides that, they seem perfectly ignorant of us. Amidst the chaos, Gee clings to me, staring at the sky for reassurance. And I notice that while the cold has been eating me alive, Gee’s been burning up.

The clouds in the distance were perfectly seamless when we got in that awful car, but by now they’ve gone completely. A door slams for the last time as one final person enters and Show Pony bursts out.

“There’s no plastic chairs and name tags, so make your own, boys!” he shouts, holding the door open for us. Gee moves first, taking one step forward before he lets go of my shirt and works his way further in. As reluctant as I am, this looks like a diner and diner’s mean food. I don’t know what I fucking ate in that car, but it didn’t taste too wonderful and I’d literally eat sand to get the taste out of my mouth. I’m hoping the diner has better to offer. 

*

There’s no more than ten people in the room, me and Gee included. Show Pony hops onto the bar and sprawls out. In the corner, surrounded by a collection of maps that calling large would be an understatement, sits the one and only Doctor Death-Defying. Looking unconcerned by the way he's bustling around his stacks of papers and radio, I'd hazard a guess he gives less than a shit. A few other faces that I've seen pasted against city walls on wanted posters are in here too. This is the prince of charming, right here. One or two more enter, with smiles so very cold, I legitimately think the room drops a few degrees. These are people who don't want to make you an ally. Join the fucking club. 

All these people used to be kids, I guess. They've all got back stories, probably more depressing than my own. Not like they’d tell anyone- I know how it goes. Some are crossdressing, some not wearing a whole lot of anything. Popular trend is not being an Eskimo. Understandable.

Show Pony clears his throat, and even Doctor Death-Defying looks up. There's a gasp, and then all guns are turned on us. Gee raises his hands in surrender. The Doctor chuckles amusedly. 

“Well if there's a right and wrong reaction, you're the farthest from right, girly.” Gerard looks a little bit offended. 

“I'm not-”

“He's not-”

“Quiet, roadkill.” He turns away from us and turns to Show Pony. His sunglasses slip done his nose, and Pony takes a breath. 

“Found these two just about roadkill. Couldn't give a summary if my life depends on it,” he replies, sliding off the bar. The gun nearest to me cocks. 

“Hey now, soldier,” Show Pony tilts his head at the person behind the barrel knocking against my skull. Doctor Death-Defying takes a breath and looks from the angry faces around the room to a hopeful Show Pony. 

“Votes are in,” he sighs going back to his map. 

“Woah, woah fuck this democracy, Doctor,” he pauses. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Have you taken a look around? I'm not your sap story. Take ‘em somewhere else.”

I don't know what any of this means, but I don't think it's good. Gee lowers his arms, another gun clicks. Gerard is staring at his executioner without fear, which is a little better than I can offer. 

“You don't have any wings to be hiding treasures, Pony.”

“No, but I got a couple hundred credits I got no use for,” he says confidently. There's a muffled scoff from somewhere in the diner. My guess is the lady behind the bar. Same one that's pointing at Gee.

“Pony, cut the shit-” she starts. 

“Can it, migraine.”

Both stare intently at the Doctor. For a moment my head clears. Just three people in funky clothes with kids toys in their hands. Roller Skates, for crying out loud. BL/ind fades and I realize something. I'm in pain, terrified, starved and dehydrated, and out of my fucking mind, and this is still better than Jersey. This is fun. 

Show Pony sniffs. 

“1840?” he asks, like that’s supposed to mean something. Hand on gun, he waits with us. Doctor Death-Defying sits back on his mobile chair and clicks his pen like a mob boss. A car door slams outside and I feel my insides seize up like they were back in the city. Doctor Death-Defying speaks. 

“Flush ‘em.” Show Pony grins and turns to us. 

“Let's go.”

~

Jesus fuck. 

When Doc. D said flush em I figured that meant we'd be sent back- I was wrong. “Flushing them” basically consisted of us being chained up for five days, only eating Zonerunner approved foods. Water was nice, though. I was fucking thirsty. I picked up quite the arsenal of lingo. That’ll come in handy, considering no one here speaks normally. Then again, who the fuck knows what normally even is? BL/ind was a load of shit, but we lived there for so long that I don't know any different. 

I never thought I’d be one for conspiracy, but Show Pony sure knows how to nail an idea into your head. The gun helps too, I guess.

I think Gee took this whole Zones thing to heart. He got really quiet during the flush, and hasn't said a word since day four of it. That was a wild two days ago. 

Show Pony throws open the curtain of the camper and escorts us outside. The big black road that’s the desert’s cross walk, looks alive in the morning sun. It was so lonely at night, but now it’s fucking thriving. Bugs don’t dare set foot on it. Not in the mood for becoming a barbecue. It’s not even July. Blading across the asphalt, Show Pony talks aimlessly about procedures, and how you shouldn’t follow them. He says it adds character to your character, but I’m feeling a little bit lifeless. 

Speaking off lifeless, Gee is looking pretty dead himself. He started walking differently as soon as we got unlocked, but whatever’s going on in his noggin, he isn’t sharing with me. He held my hand when we were chained up, and whether it was because he was scared or not isn’t something I’m open to right now. I’m not up to much of anything.

Just before Show Pony opens the door, he spins in a half-circle and crosses his arms. He squints at us, keeping his lips pursed.

“You’re a better door than a window,” I remark. His lips fold into a smirk and he nods. A bitter wind whistles in my ears as the door hisses open like a space ship. And oh look! It’s full of aliens. They’re not quite little green men, but the welcome we get is as cold as Neptune. I saunter in, feeling a shit load more confident than last time. I haven’t been in the diner since that night, and quite frankly, nothing has moved an inch. Not even the dust. 

“All clean?” The Doctor rips me from the clouds. I ought-a get my head out of there one day or another. Show Pony shoves us forward, showing us off like a pet. The Doctor maneuvers himself away from his desk surprisingly well. However long he’s been in that chair has been properly educational. 

“Well then,” he sighs, looking us up and down. It’s hard to be intimidated by a man in a wheelchair, but the Doc’s got it down to a science. “I say we’ll get them suited up, shall we?” Show Pony crosses his arms and slouches against the bar. 

“I’ve got wings, Doc,” he grumbles. The bar lady snorts and spits. She’s dramatic. 

“Pony, you’ve got wings sure enough, but are you saying you’re gonna fly to Mars? No, you need jet fuel. Take what you’re given,” the Doctor replies. Show Pony cracks a smile and stands up tall. 

“Never.” The Doctor smiles back and nods. He returns to his desk, and for the first time since we’ve gotten here, everyone goes back to minding their own damn business. No eyes on us, no spotlight, just us. It’s lonely, but there’s no pressure to be on my best behavior. There’s some clicking from the Doctor’s corner while Pony looks over his gun, top to bottom. 

“Mastermind, take ‘em out front. Situate,” the Doctor commands, not taking his eyes off the machines he’s bringing to life. The lady behind the bar hops over it, and leads right out the door. Gee is the first to the follow, jogging to keep up with her long legs. Show Pony locks arms with me tightly as the blinding hell fire lights up the expanse. Only the shade of the gas station is our salvation. It’s not even facing our direction. 

“I call her Master-migraine,” Show Pony giggles, walking on his blades. 

“Why?” I ask, keeping up the conversation so it doesn’t get awkward. Show Pony smiles against the sun as he drags me onward. 

“Cause she’s such a hard-ass. She’s no hot-shot fighter, follows orders. Target ready, as always. But she’s no fun. Wipe out a whole block, never cracks a smile. See?” he replies, and somehow, I understand every word. Rephrase, “no fun, stellar fighter. Bullseye every time.” Maybe that means I’m catching on. I sure fucking hope so. 

Mastermind leads us to a vending machine, but it’s no ordinary vending machine. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen an ordinary vending machine in… years. It’s pale white, like that god awful city we just left, with large buttons for- guns. Even if I’m catching onto the lingo, I still cant grab hold of the Doctor, no matter how hard I try. What did he mean by “situate”? Shooting us seems out of the questions, after all they’ve done for us with the flush and all. It would be a little out of character to suddenly be generous, but who knows? Maybe they’re in the giving mood now.

Mastermind looks over the options for a second, back to us, and elbows a button hard. The machine takes a moment to think, whirring with electricity, before spitting out a gun. White, just like- aw fuck it. She slams it into Gee’s gut, which apparently winds him. He makes a little grunt and the girl smirks knowingly. That’s a little cocky for an outcast. She repeats the whole process again, also knocking me in the ribs with a white gun, which hurt a little bit more than I gave Gee credit for. Despite the fact I’ve never even held a gun before, my finger loops around the trigger. I’ve never seen a gun fire before.

“Jury’s out that neither of you sad sons of bitches have ever flipped a barrel, so y’all get the basics for now. It’s only as hard as the pressure on you. Just pull the trigger, don’t forget to charge,” she says, walking away, dragging me away with her. Under protest, of course. 

“You don’t have a name, I don’t want your shitty grandpa name-tag, spare me, god. I’m Mindless Mastermind, call me Mastermind. If you catch Pony’s sickness, I’ll blow your fucking head off.” I wait a second before forming a response. He's on thin ice, I see. 

“Isn’t Mindless Mastermind a little contradictory?” I ask, flashing a mocking smile. She snorts and elbows me again. 

“You’re no fun,” she laughs. Before I can send a snarky response that may have gotten me slapped, she whisks me off path. Out of Pony’s line of sight, she watches the two enter the building. Pony’s on some rant, which doesn’t bother me because it’s cracking Gee up. She grabs me by the hand and takes off again. She’s not on roller skates, thank god, but she’s still way faster than my little legs can handle. There’s a shack drawing closer as she runs, and I’m to focused on the shack to notice the dip in the ground. I trip and smack onto the ground, hitting my sliced hands on yet more gravel. How very wonderful. 

Mastermind didn’t stop running for me, and now I have no clue where she is. There’s a noise from behind the shack I eye-fucked and my money’s on Mastermind. I pull myself up, which was a lot harder than it should've been, and make a b-line for the shack. 

After a minute of putting intense focus into not falling into any more ditches, I surely enough find Mastermind behind the shack, loading her gun. 

“You’re not planning to use that on me, are you?” I ask, trying not to sound as nervous as I am. She laughs and aims it at me, shutting one eye. I gulp and she fires. There’s a loud twang as a garbage can flies back, a large singed hold in its side. She cocks her gun and smashes it into her holster. It’s by her hip, and the only aura she’s giving me right now is a cowgirl look. Pretty sure that’s not what she’s going for. 

“Let’s play school,” she said definitely. Does she want me to move? I guess my apparent lack of comprehension shone through my calm and collected exterior. Thanks, brain. She turns back to me and puts her other hand on her hip. “Unless you want a target on your back instead of the vamps,” she hisses. I stare at the gun in my hand and look back up at her. She rolls her eyes and walks over to me. 

“Look,” she begins on her way over. “I don’t know when you’re gonna get this but you’re getting the royal treatment. I’m teaching you how to shoot, soldier. Your boyfriend’s probably getting a car at this very moment in our multiverse. A couple credits and lessons on how not to be an idiot, and you’re gone. Be a king, not a servant. Even if 1840. Now,” she grapples with my fingers until they’re secure around the handle of the gun, with one finger around the trigger. She stands back. 

“Up,” she says, crossing her arms. I lift my arm and aim it straight up. I clench my jaw and squeeze my eyes shut, and press the trigger, but before I even fire she yelps. I open my eyes and drop my arm in defense. She storms back over and puts one finger on my chin, holding my head up. My pupils dilate at she holds my eyelids up with her other hand. 

“Don't shoot like a baby. You've got more brain cells, if my wishing well’s got enough cash. Eyes wide, shoot with pride,” she says, giving me a light smack on the cheek. She takes a step back again and keeps looking me in the eyes, daring me to shut them. Sweat from my hand is starting to trip down my arm, my grip is slipping. The gun goes off before I can even think. 

And I didn't blink. 

Mastermind smiles broadly and claps me on the back. I grin nervously. She slips past me, and sets up the trash can with the hole in it. She sets a bucket on top that's more rust than bucket and nods to me. A certain feeling takes over my actions that is new to me. It's part adrenaline pumping in my head and part confidence that's so concentrated it's putting a sweet taste in my mouth. I've shot a gun once in my entire life but I've never felt more sure of my abilities for anything in my entire life. Mastermind leans against the wall of the shack and smirks. BANG! The gun goes off. 

Maybe it was beginners luck or Mastermind’s cocky expression, but when I snap out of the trance that my shot put me in, there's a hole straight through the middle of the bucket. She's gaping at me, but clapping and kicking shit everywhere. 

“Shit yes, saviour! You're gonna run this bitch in no time!” she screams, kicking a crate especially hard. I smile and blow the smoke that's wafting off my gun for effect. Mastermind shakes her head, that precious smile still on her face. 

*

Turns out it really was just beginners luck. For every thirty shots, I hit about one. Mastermind kept up her enthusiasm but the look in her eyes was disappointed to the max. 

“Alright, the ammo’s ghosted. Let's nab a final feud and call it a night,” she sighs. It's mid day. Regardless, I raise up my weapon and fire one last bitter shot. It misses by a mile. I shake my head and sigh. Mastermind hikes up her strap and walks over to me. I give her a sad smile and hand her my gun. She reaches out and is halfway to the white lifeless body when she stops. There's a crack from behind us. She looks at me and purses her lips. 

“We’ve got a crossroads here.” She’s talking low and secretively, and I don't have a clue what she means. She locks arms with me and takes me aside slowly. 

“On my cue,” she gets cut off by the unmistakable sound of a gun. She shrieks, grabs her hip and raises her gun. 

“FIRE!” she screams, going at the sudden squall of vamps. Battery City’s police force. My fingers are contracting as soon as a vamp enters my line of view. White lines shoot across the empty space. A millisecond later, purple blasts staring appearing. I can’t hear the guns anymore, only my own breath, which I’m barely able to catch. I fly out of the way just before a blast hits me. My arm flies back out and like a battering ram, the vamp goes down, a big black scotch mark on its chest. There’s one last shriek of anguish and the fire dies down. 

Mastermind doesn’t drop her weapon as she doubles over, holding onto her knees for dear life. My heartbeat slows considerably until I’m able to go over and help her. There’s a little blood on her skirt, and that alone makes me want to puke. The fact that she got shot should be a little more pressing, though.

“Are you okay?!” I ask, wrapping her arm around my should and attempting to help her walk. She throws me aside and cracks her neck. After a quick examine of her hip, she shrugs and walks away. No limp. 

“You just got shot! How are you just… Fine?” I ask, jogging to keep up with her long stride again. She smiles and sighs, keeping her line of sight directed at the diner. 

“You’re not asking the right questions,” she replies, finally retiring her gun and returning it to its holster. My face contorts into a look that I hope tells her I have no fucking clue what the right question is. She looks behind us before looking at me. There hasn’t been any movement since the last shot that I think was mine. I couldn’t tell from where I was standing. She stops abruptly and holds out an arm, stopping me from falling into the same ditch twice. 

“I’ve got a ratty sunburn, and you got jipped. Tell me again that’s not rabbit’s foot, huh,” she wheezes. She has a point. She socks me in the shoulder, hopping down into the ditch and shooting up the other side like it’s nothing. Like there’s no scotch mark on her leg. Like she didn’t just get saved by a novice, if you can call that being saved. Maybe in her books, but not mine. 

The diner’s no more than twenty feet away now, and I still haven’t said anything to try and sound the least bit modest. What a charmer I must seem.

“Why do you talk like that?” I ask, changing the subject. My only escape route- insulting. I really am quite the charmer. 

“Talk like what?” she fires back, stomping up the steps to the diner. There’s not really any steps actually, she’s just stomping. 

“What’re you wasting air about?” Show Pony pipes up from the gas station to our right. Mastermind turns to him and huffs.

“He thinks we talk funny!” she shouts, taking a snappy ninety-degree turn that’s got nothing to do with the temperature. I don’t have anywhere better to be, so I follow her to Show Pony, but only because I last saw Gee with him. 

Show Pony howls with laughter. “This, coming from a Bat-Rat? Sure thing, Crow!” He only cackles louder at his own jokes. Mastermind joins him soon enough, sitting under the shade of the awning. The moment the shade hits me, the entire world seems to drop a lengthy two or there degrees, give or take. It’s still hot as shit, but I’ll take what I can get.

There’s a loud clank from around the bend, but Pony doesn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Mastermind draws her gun for a second, but seeing the relaxed look in Pony’s eyes, she puts it back. She tiptoes around the chair that Pony has recreated for his own purposes and peeks around the bend. She whips around, and when my eyes finish blinking, Pony’s on the ground and his chair is roughly five feet from him. 

“The hell you using those face organs for? Eating?” she picks up a wrench from the floor and chucks it at him. It misses. “And let’s not forget you’ve got plenty ‘o time to be whacking it, sweet heart, and unless your dick is a screw driver, I don’t want your greasy hands anywhere near it! Get your shit away from our shit, and put some pedal to the metal, you fucking vamp!” Show Pony bolts around the bend before she can say anymore. Mastermind turns to me and shrugs.

“One of these years a bullet’s gonna find it’s way into a , and it ain’t gonna be on Pony’s watch cause he’s got his eyelids glued shut,” she sighs, walking towards the kicked chair. I smile sadly at her as the flops down in the chair and slides down so far she’s barely sitting on it at all. 

“Feel free to join that half-asses lesson Pony’s givin’ out of guilt. It might be worth something. You never know,” she sighs, shutting her eyes. My smile widens at her exasperaetdness. She might be a hard-ass, but she’s the nicest one I’ve ever met. If she’s okay with me taking lessons from Show Pony, I might as well. Like she said, you never know. Plus, Gee’s there. 

I round the bend and get a nice burst of the sun in my fucking eyes. How wonderful. After my eyes have decided it’s not the right time to go blind, I see happiness. Gee’s crouched down beside a car, hands and arms covered in paint. Show Pony’s got the hood open and is messing with the engine while trying to give instructions. It’s mostly just mumbling with a few shrieks here and there. It’s not like Gee’d hear any of it anyway. This is probably the first time he’s gotten to paint in a few years and nothing is getting through to him right now. 

The ground next to him looks nice enough, like it’s not going to light my ass on fire, so I take a seat next to him. He doesn’t look my way, even though the sun is in his eyes, reflecting off of the car windshield. I’m glad he doesn’t offer me some paint, because me trying to paint is like a snake trying to fly. Doesn’t work. 

“What did Mastermind do after I left?” Show Pony asks, smacking something in the engine and getting a stream of oil to the face. I stifle a laugh as he smacks around with one hand and keeps the other over his eyes for safety. Once he hits the right thing and the oil ceases, I give my answer. 

“Nothin’. She sighed and sat down in that chair.” Show Pony kicks the tire and wipes the oil off of his face. He wheels around and zooms off, predictably to confront her. Gee wraps a wet hand around my wrist, drawing my attention back to him. He’s dropped painting completely and has a certain fascination with my eyes suddenly.

“Show Pony says we have to change our names,” he says finally. Three days of silence, and then this. I slide his hand into my own and swallow hard. 

“What do you mean? I mean, these people all have insane names, so what? Why can’t we stay Frank and Gee?” I ask, trying to keep him steady. He shakes his head and presses his back against the car door, just barely missing the wet paint. 

“He said it’s dangerous. We can’t be us anymore, we’ve gotta be new people. He said we wouldn’t survive, and I think he’s right,” he sighs, sounding a lot more sure than he did a minute ago. That means he’s made up his mind.

“I’m not following.”

“Frank and Gerard from New Jersey, or Battery City, would die. Day one, no chance. We have to set aside New Jersey and Frank and Gerard. We don’t get to be them anymore,” he responds, still clutching my hand. 

My heart speaks before my head, “What if I’m afraid to leave them behind? They already know so much more than any new person would. I don’t want to be anyone else.” Gee smiles at me.

“I’m not Gee anymore, but you still have me. I still like to paint and sing. I still royally suck at guitar. But I’m just… Not Gee. Get it?” he explains. That makes a little more sense. He tilts his head forward, ushering me to try it.

“I’m not Frank anymore,” I begin, “I still like to play guitar and watch horror movies. I still want seven thousand dogs. I just…” I look up at him. “I need a new name.” 

Gee nods and squeezes my hand. A pink flash speeds past us and hits a tree. Gee jumps and tries to stand, but I reach up and slam him back down. I don’t even remember pulling out my gun, but it’s in my hand and ready to go. Show Pony rounds the bend, screaming and firing madly behind himself, pink flashes hitting everything. He gets about five feet before Mastermind winds around the corner firing back at him, her shots getting much closer than his. 

Gee stands up quicker than I thought he was capable of and reaches inside the car, and honks the horn. Pony jumps, startled, and slams into a tree. The same one he hit earlier. Mastermind whirls around, but gets cut off by Gee.

“Quit it, or I’ll go all Costa Rica! You hear me?” he shouts, firing a shot of his own at the sky. One a scale of cliche to a ninth planet, this is off the charts unexpected. 

“Party pooper,” Mastermind growls, parking her gun by her burnt up hip. Pony picks up a can of spray paint and shakes it. He hops up on the hood of the car and begins to spray.

“Party poison!” he shouts over the hissing of the can. Gee looks to me and nods. I watch the smile creep up on him as I can see him replaying the words in his head. Here we go. 

~

“Maybe it was cause I was starved, but I honestly don’t know why the fuck I thought this tasted good,” I huff, picking at the food. There’s no more than one of two snorts from around the table. Most people took off after our flush and those who did stay don’t talk to us. I think they’re afraid we’ll turn on them because we’re from the city. After all I’ve learned about these people, called zone-runners, I don’t really blame them.

“Hey, if you wanna complain, you can eat shit,” Pony jokes, but it doesn’t really sound that much like a joke. Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was serious. Doc. D gives him a stern “be nice to the guests” look, although we’re not guests anymore. 

“Hey,” Gee starts. “D’you guys ever get, like, kids out here? I mean, Pony didn’t seem too confused about finding us, and there’s a lot of missing kids in the city. You ever find them out here?” Everyone looks a little uncomfortable. Oh, great. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” Mastermind says simply. Gee looks confused.

“What do you do with them?” he digs further. Show Pony looks ready to throw up, and the Doctor wheels away, back to his table. Lovely.

“Mostly, bury ‘em,” Mastermind replied, taking another bite before she can say anything else. I think I might throw up too. Gee still doesn’t seem to be getting it. He points his spoon at Mastermind and opens his big mouth again, but the eyeball Pony gives off says he’s not letting this conversation get any farther.

“Do you always need this much help drawing conclusions? Cause I’m sorry but I left my drawing pen at the train station, and Mastermind isn’t the generous type,” he spits, stabbing his food with his ford and breaking one of the prongs off. 

“Pony!” the Doctor shouts. Judging by the look on Gee’s face, I’ll say he got it now. He looks back at his food, a look in his eyes that’s more dead than lost. Maybe Gee’s big mouth condition is contagious, because I just cant keep my tongue where it belongs.

“Do you ever have to… kill them? Put them out of their misery for their own sake? Cause they wouldn’t survive out here very well, I assume,” I ask, looking at the only person at this table that isn’t seething- Mastermind. 

She sighs and looks down at her can. “Sometimes.” Pony looks up at me, guiltily. I shut my jaw with a click and blink a few times just to make sure my eyes don't water up. The people at the table nearest to us get up and leave. This hurts because they were mid-conversation and I know this was definitely my fault. I don’t even care about looking scared anymore. I shrink back in my chair and try to make myself as small as possible. 

“Call us whatever you want.You’re one of us now. You’ll have to make the decisions too, ya know,” Pony growls over his can, which makes his voice echo a little. He sounds eerie, and it’s kinda cool. He sounds like a zombie from an old horror film, and those are my forte. My brain rears back to my other escape route- humor. 

“Nah… The only reason you guys are monsters is because I saw that old guitar in the corner and it looks like it hasn’t been played in years. That’s my real problem here,” I utter. Everyone seems relieved to be out of such a heart breaking topic, that why jump in instantly.

“The only monsters here are you and your no-fun-allowed boyfriend here. You saw him policing our party back there,” Mastermind repeats. Show Pony jumps in.

“You’re no fun, you ghoul.” Doctor Death-Defying reappears in between Gee and Show Pony. He taps on his can and brings seriousness down on the table like a hammer. What a fun guy. 

“I know we’re all fun and games, but the sooner the egg leaves the nest, the faster it’ll grow and return home for the holidays. So, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask that you two find yourselves your own egg.”

Gee doesn’t even give him two seconds of silence before he speaks.

“Party Poison.” He sounds way more bold than Gee ever had. Doctor D turns his chair every so slightly to face me. Gee also looks at me, but he’s not Gee anymore. The look in his eyes is so wild, painted on, a mask that’s part of him now. And I’ve never been one to fall behind.

“Fun Ghoul,” are the first words that reach my lips. And then they were the only ones that mattered. Gee keeps on looking at me like I’m the finest diamond he’s ever seen and the longer he looks, the more he changes. I sure fucking hope I’m changing too, because I’m already so behind him. He’s a natural born leader. 

“Party Poison and Fun Ghoul. That’s got a ring to it… A wedding ring?” Show Pony cracks. I smile, looking away from Gee. 

“Like you could afford that,” I laugh, taking another bite of my food. Only now does Gee turn away. But I guess he’s not really Gee anymore, is he? Better yet, I’m not even me anymore. Who am I?

~

The stars are singing tonight. So is Gee. He pulled me outside once the sun went down, and took me for a walk. I would’ve, could’ve, should’ve been scared, but I wasn’t. Frank would’ve been, but I’m not. That’ll take some time to get used to, the whole being a completely different person thing. It happened to fast, and I sure as hell am not ready for it, but the desert waits for no man. Neither does Gee, apparently. Keeping up with him isn’t easy, but at least he doesn’t walk as fast as Mastermind. Gee stops, just ahead, on a flat little plain, over looking the horizon. The moon is rising and it looks ten times bigger than it did in Jersey. Then again, the moon I remember in Jersey might not be the actual Jersey moon. BL/ind fucked with our heads, and I’m treating all my memories as suspects under investigation.

When I catch up to him and stop by his side, he takes my hand and inter-twines out fingers so I’ll never let go. I won’t have any problem with that anyway.

“So, Party Poison,” I start, but I’ve got no where to go.

“So, Fun Ghoul,” he replies, finding the same empty space where words should go. Instead there seems only one thing to do. One fucked up, emotional, confusing thing to do. And I go right for it. 

I turn on him, and pull his face downwards, smashing his lips onto mine. He instantly responds, taking a step back and tripping on a branch that fell off of one of the Joshua trees. I manage to fall on top of him in the least painful way possible. I hope. 

In the mix of spit and sweat and maybe even tears (who knows), I manage to find out one thing; Just because Frank’s in love with his best friend, doesn’t men Fun Ghoul has to be. But I get the feeling he is.

***

Trying to fall asleep is going easier. I always had such a rough time sleeping in new places. It took me up to a year to finally get used to the idea I was never gonna leave Battery City. Well, I’m up and at ‘em now, and these past few nights haven’t been easy. The ground is about as comfortable as a rock, so I took a booth instead. Even in the low light, the gum covering the bottom of the table adds some color. That brings me back to the plan for tomorrow.

“You’re gonna get all gussied up, slap some paint on your ray gun, and fix that damn car of yours. A few credits in the mix along with some other semantics I’m not allowed to worry about, and you’re a goose chase, fellas.” 

Those were Pony’s last words of the evening before Party dragged me outside. That’s what I have to call him now, and it’ll take some time, but it’ll grow on me. Not sure if I’ll ever get used to being called Ghoul, though. That’s a little tough to swallow. Speaking of swallowing, I’m starving. I should’ve eaten more food, but the little chat about children wiped my appetite. 

The diner is dead silent and darker than the heart of Battery City. Doctor D is out in his car, Mastermind is on the bar, and Show Pony is… probably on the fucking roof. I don’t know. Out of sight, out of mind is becoming a trend I’m not overly fond of. There’s a few other people in here. Their names bounce around in my head, jumbling. I think there’s someone called Over And Outcast… there’s others. There’s a noise by the fridge, where I left my food. The power here if iffy, which wouldn’t ruin the taste of the food as its just about fridge temperature in here.

Following the noise, there’s only a mat of black hair that’s too tall to be Doc. D and too male to be Mastermind, who’s passed out behind me anyways. 

“Hey Party,” I whisper, leaning close. He hands me my food silently, picks up his own and silently shuts the fridge door. He follows me back to my booth, like he has nowhere else to go. Maybe he doesn’t.

“Doctor D said maybe he’d send us out on a mission in a few days,” he whispers, keeping a low profile. I’ve never had to wake up a Killjoy before, and I’d rather not find out what happens when you do. 

I scoff. “More like a few months.” He shrugs and goes back to his food. The silence is beyond the silence back in the city. This is drop dead silence. Everyone is breathing so shallowly it’s hard to tell if they’re even breathing at all. Then there’s outdoors which is the most deserted desert I’ve ever heard. I have only seen the one, though. 

“I’m…” I wait a second for him to look up and acknowledge me. “Really, really scared, actually.” He says nothing. Does nothing. Stays the same, like this doesn’t affect him at all. 

“When will we radio, Mikey?” I ask. This catches his attention. He chews for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Mine are everywhere and I’m just saying the first thing that comes to mind at his point.

“When we go on that mission. We have a radio in our car, and Show Pony promised he’d teach me how to fine tune it. Or, he said he’d get Nightmare to do it.” Okay.

“When did you think all this up?” I ask, scraping out my can quietly. He smiles tiredly.

“Earlier. He’s my brother. I don’t have a whole lot else to think about…” he trails off, realizing that he has a shit ton more to think about than he thought. And he’s been an idiot for staying in his bubble.

“He’s not your brother anymore, Party,” I say, no remorse in my voice. That’s the way I wanted it to sound, but it’s not the way I thought it would. That’s just the new me. That’s Fun Ghoul talking. 

“I know. But he still is until he gets out here and joins us with Ray, or until he gets dead.” There’s hurt in his voice, like he didn’t want to say it. It sounded different, like something he wouldn’t’ve said, but did. He sounded different. Party Poison. 

He pushes his empty can forward and leans back in the booth, his sleep deprivation catching up with him fast.

“Would you mind if I just-“ he sprawls out on the booth and yawns. My eyes are shutting faster and opening slower. His are already shut and his hand stopped twitching from nerves. He’s out cold. His yawn moves my way and I stretch my arms and yawn silently. He’s in the worst possible position and there’s no room for me now. What a brat. 

The next booth over is perfectly open, but I get the sense I’ll fall back into the trend of not sleeping again. I’d be all alone over there. I am… completely alone. Even with… Party, I’m still alone. Jersey is gone, Battery City is gone, Mikey and Ray are gone, and now even I’m gone. It all makes perfect sense for me not to be able to sleep. But I hop over the table and slide back behind Party, parallel to his body and drape an arm over him like a scarf. Even after all this gross time in the desert, his hair still smells sweet. 

That sweet is the perfect lullaby for a good nights sleep.


	3. Bang Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Zones start to show their true colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Align the Stars is officially back up and running! It's been a while, I'm sorry about that, but I have some material to put forward now that it's summer. Enjoy!

Who kew sunlight could taste so bitter? Or so cold… The day isn’t sunny and overly heated like it was yesterday, no, today it’s decided to fuck us up in the other direction. Stellar. 

Show Pony, after brutally awakening us by sitting on us, is directing us on our game plan. Not much has changed since his goodnight, only now he thinks we’ll be leaving for a reason. Doc D says he needs more supplies.

“Could you be anymore vague?” I growl sarcastically. Show Pony raises a finger at me, a twisty playing-fighting smile on his face, but is cut off by the arrival of Mastermind. There’s no chair next to Show Pony, so she kneels, head staying well above the surface of the table, unlike mine would. 

“Morning, misters. How’s it hanging?” she asks, but her tone of voice says she doesn’t really care. She’s more interested in her can of food. The bags under her eyes could use a few more hours, and I’d say I could too. Party and I shrug simultaneously. That middle of the night death chat with Party wasn’t too fun for my sleep habits, if I even still have any. Show Pony is very vocal, as always.

“Well, just dandy, cowgirl. Today on the blackboard we’ve got a makeover that’s make the hawks jelly. Lime green!” he nearly shouts. Mastermind snorts, giving more sass than Show Pony’s capable of. He narrows his eyes in a last resort, but she’s anywhere but here. He sighs and goes back to his food, pouting. Before his pout can completely settle like oil and water, his perky behavior spikes. His face lights up, and the thought that came into his head was evidently so miraculous and uplifting that it propelled him straight backwards and onto the floor. Some of Gee’s soy mush spills out of his nose from laughing. That’s… not attractive.

“Get a little too much talk in your jaws, or are you just high off of the sweetest desert sands. Scratch that, you seen a ghost?" Mastermind asks, recycling his chair as her own. Show Pony bolts up, somehow staying straighter than the flag pole, even in roller skates. He takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes and collecting himself, moving his chest dramatically. He’s not getting any more air by doing that. Losing air, wasting time? Same thing.

“Morning,” he says again, taking a knee. I raise my eyebrows at him and divulge back to my food. I feel like he's easier to understand when you don't know him. Mastermind doesn't bring it back up. 

-

“What was the spasm for?” I ask, following Show Pony to the garbage. He's got real determination: recycling even when there's no one to see. Not even Mother Nature. Pretty sure she didn’t last very long out here either. 

He chuckles and drops his empty can in the bin. He barely lets me drop mine before snatching up wrist and whisking me off. He drags me outside, the early morning sun failing to warm the air up. Goosebumps ripple against my arms and the back of my neck, spanning around to my chest like a necklace. 

He stops right in front of the flagpole and drops my arm. The sun has finally detached itself from the horizon and fights its way up to the next rung of the ladder. Pony grabs the rope and gives it a good yank. A nails on a chalkboard sound pierces my ears but Show Pony doesn't even flinch. He’s smiling as he watches the ripped up American flag ride into the sky. It's got a fair share of holes, some paint splattered by the stars, like someone knocked over a can of paint. The wind whistles a song I'd never heard until I came out here. The wind blows the sun up higher in the sky, but not fast enough. Even the vultures aren't awake yet. I didn't know it was so early. 

Show Pony hasn't said a word yet, but he's smiling. A smile says a trillion words. Suddenly he spins around, staring at the ground. He hops over to the water tanker and digs around a pile of crates. A harsh wind pulls all the exhaust out of me, and pushes me towards him. I skip over and help him pull back rags and dirty machine pieces. I don't have a clue what he's going for, but I'll take it. 

“Aha!” he yells, pulling out one crate in particular. He rips off the top and pulls out a few bags. They look like trash bags based on their blackberry color, but whatever's in them isn't solid. He takes a quick peek inside and a potent smell of bleach wafts out. 

“That’s-”

“Hair dye!” he hisses, smiling with his teeth in all their glory. I reach for the bag but he yanks it away, still smiling like a madman. Like a bouncy ball, he springs back up and skates off across the rocky ground. I scrape my knees while trying to get up and chase after him. 

“Hey, wait! You're not dying my hair!” I shout, tripping over a rock. I'm never gonna get used to the ground, rocky or sandy. Ever. He only laughs, rounding the corner before I can get up again. I drop my head in defeat. I got sleep but somehow I'm more tired now that I was last night. I drop down on the dusty ground. The early morning sun treats me like a cat and I shut my eyes. Maybe it's his fault I'm getting such good sleep and still manage to be tired. He's gonna kill me. 

~

I burst through the window, after finding the door locked. Show Pony whips around points his pink gun at me. He drops it and sighs exasperatedly. 

“Was the door broken?” he asks, pulling a strand of brown hair out of his eyes. 

“Yes!” I shout. He smiles at me and turns back to the table. A leg shoots up from the table. 

“Hey, Ghoul!” the leg says. No, wait. The person attached to the leg said that. My guess was gonna be Party, but this person is wearing skinny jeans. Tan skinny jeans. Last I checked, he was wearing black baggy jeans that hadn't been washed in far too long. These look almost new, and the boots on his feet don't really seem his style. But- oh. 

“Hey, Party.” Enter Party Poison, stage right. A hand grabs my left one and yanks me off stage. Mastermind’s black and blonde hair flips as she runs. Back past the bar. Through the doorway. Into the back room. It's a breathtaking fuckin’ mess. There are clothes everywhere, ranging from sombrero’s to vampire capes to ski boots. She picks up a top hat and puts it on her head, smiling for an invisible camera. I raise my eyebrows, and they do all the talking. 

“C’mon!” she says, kicking a tutu at me. “Not a soul in this shit hole will look at you twice, wearing that rats nest. Find something nice to wear, dear. Your father’s coming over for dinner,” her voice sounds exactly like it would in a movie. Maybe she’s done this before. Practice makes perfect after all, but who who would she have had to practice for? Or to? That reminds me…

“How many people have you guys met? I mean, surprised was one way to categorize how y’all reacted, but it’s not the word I’d use,” I ask, sifting through a small mat of fabrics on the floor. Might as well start the job, since apparently it’s all 9-5 around here. Mastermind hops up onto a crate; there seem to be so many of those, everywhere you look. 

“Show Pony does put on quite the show from here to there, time to time. But yous’ was a big deal, my friend. A couple a’ Bat-Rats? That’s a whole new earthquake.”

I pick up a green jacket and examine it. “How about this?” I ask, pulling it on. It fits just fine, but the problem is the look on her face. She rolls her head around, cracking it at both sides and when she’s finally done ignoring my question she shrugs.

“You’re oh so helpful, Mastermind, thank you.” I growl, turning to the windows in hope of a glimpse of my reflection. 

“I can’t choose your outfit for ya. Who knows? It might just be the one you’re in when you finally kick that damn bucket. That’s none of my charge.” I slide the jacket back off and let it fall to the ground. I move it aside with one foot and scan the floors some more. Nothing fancy really catches my eye, and nothing plain does either. I really liked that jacket. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence and shuffling, she says, “Speaking of buckets, you could… paint it, if you want. There’s a couple of cans over yonder.” She tilts her head toward a dingy cabinet. I look at the jacket and sigh. It’s a really nice jacket, all things considered. 

“What if…” an idea pops into my head. “What if you helped me paint it? I’d still have chosen it, you’re just… helping. My dying wish would approve.” She lights up like a firecracker and hops off the crate. She rushes to the other side, mightily kicks the door shut, which rattles the entire building, and races over to the cabinet. The glass all but shatters as she rips open the doors and begins yanking cans out, some paint spilling out through holes or unsealed lids. She organizes them all in a semi circle and plops down on a sturdy looking one. 

“Now,” she puts her chin on her palm and her elbows on her knees and stares at me, eyes narrowed with a complimenting playful grin. “What kind of person is Fun Ghoul?”

“Not a very good one,” I spit back, laughing a cold laugh that sounds nothing like my laugh. Or, I guess I should say Frank’s laugh. Her grin widens and she cocks her head teasingly. This is gonna be fun.

“I blame the height,” she sighs looking at her nails. I clap a hand to my heart and collapse onto my back. She watches me out of the corner of her eye like a spy and blows her cover by giggling like a little school girl. 

“You shoot low, Master-migraine.” Her head jerks up and she reaches for a can of paint.

Paint is very, very cold. 

And it ruined my shirt. I liked that shirt. 

***

 

Mastermind finally got down to business and inked up my costume, or should I say, my outfit. By the looks of things, I’m getting the impression it’s gonna be permanent, something my pits wont agree with in three days. Ah, well. I only just found out what it all feels like, since it took a long while to get all the green paint off of me, and Mastermind didn’t think that was at all her problem. 

“Gun.” She holds out her hand expectantly. You can’t just give someone a tool to save their life and then take it away at a moments notice. Day and a half and I’d rather die than give up a hunk of metal and witchcraft. Stupid little Frank who always listened to his mother hands over his gun anyway. Without taking her dark eyes off her artwork, which is my jacket she decided to reprise, she dunks my gun in the same green bucket of paint. 

“Woah!” I shout, reaching out to stop her. She looks up slowly and pulls the gun out of the bucket, dripping wet and perfectly slime green. Maybe she’s got some sort of “scare quota” to fulfill, because she points it at me, a golden rule of things not to do when handling projectiles. Her aim swoops and she fires into the open window behind me. What a ride. Continuing to act a psychopath, she closes one nostril with a finger and inhales the gas from the result of the gun shot and the paint fumes all at once. 

“’Tis the smell of success and death. Just like you,” she smiles and sets the gun down on the floor. She wipes her messy fingers on her messier pants and hops up like a jackrabbit. She motions that its time to go and I follow her just like Frank following his mother around the store. Frank always listened to his mother. 

Third person is no fun, I’ve decided. I’m just Fun Ghoul now, and there’s not creepy narrator who can decide otherwise. I need to grow the fuck up. 

“Give ‘em the old switch-eroo, Pony,” Mastermind shouts, whirling her fingers around in the gnarly air. Show Pony’s shoulders droop as he continues dumping water on Party’s head. Party is dead still on the table like a cadaver, watching the ceiling like a cat following a laser. 

“Don’t cut to the chase quite yet, Mastermind. I’ve still got money on the horses,” Pony replies, working some more dye out of Party’s hair. I’m still not over my sudden understanding of their slang. It’s kinda like learning a new language, and it still gets me sometimes. It kinda feels like lighting a dictionary on fire. 

“Patience is a vice, Pony,” Mastermind warns. He stops erotically massaging Party’s head and groans. He gives her a look over his shoulder and sighs pathetically. Blades slide across the floor and I’m whisked away before I even realized I’m a princess. Not a very good one, it seems. 

***

“You’re nine-tenths of a Joshua tree already, tiger. Party picked your poison and you got quite a motor baby, if you don't mind me saying. A kick here or there and you two are starlight,” Pony says as he wheels me outside. 

“Then what’s with the chains?” I ask, pulling myself onto the roof of the car. Show Pony tosses me a can of paint that I open like I have any idea what to do with it. Show Pony kicks open the hood of the car and reveals the oily motor.

“Because you’re revving just about as well as this guy over here.” I’m taking offense to that. Pony chuckles as he swings around a wrench like a weapon. Anything could be, so get creative, Ghoul. He twirls around, tongue as silent as the scraping of his wheels. His leg breaches the spin and shoots forward and suddenly he’s at work, locked and loaded. His hands move like little spiders across the motors and that just makes me miss the guitar in the corner of the diner.

The sand sharks are swimming light speed, the sun’s a rounded climax, the wind taps the first beat and then Show Pony’s humming. My foot swings in time and my hands are working, working, beating, shaking like they’re electrified. My blood’s nothin’ but adrenaline, just the stench of the place puts a magic spell on me. Or maybe that’s the paint. 

Half an hour of painting and what did I end up with? My worst fear. There’s a giant spider on top of the car. I sure do know myself. My own worst nightmare. I wonder if you can even have nightmares out here. It’s kinda like living a nightmare, so there’s no room for sleep. When you do get some shut eye, or at least shut one eye, what do you dream? What do you mean? I look over at Pony. What kind of person is he? 

I pull my jacket off and fling it onto the ground and stand up. Show Pony looks at me, a smirk on his pale lips. I’m one gland away from asking for music, but he reads my mind. He rounds the side of the car and taps the radio.

“Hey, Doctor! Do my ears look busy? I don’t think so,” Pony speaks into the mic. He waits a few moments, tapping, slipping, and wiping a little blood from his lip. There’s a blast from inside, my gun is drawn and music is pouring out from the stereo. A good song, too. 

***

 

“Could you answer somethin’ for me, Pony?” I ask, leaning against the bar. The music mellows or a beat. Show Pony takes a whiff of the oil and grimaces. He looks up at me, with this weirdly provocative and evil look in his eye that I’ve never seen from anything but a vamp, and I know sure as hell he isn’t one of those. He chucks the canister of oil as hard as he can against the wall, spilling it all over the wall and down to hell. He giggles, wipes his hands off on a ratty rag and turns to me. He leans forward on his elbows and rests his chin on his hands.

“Anything, sugar.”

“What’s life like out here, truly? How am I gonna feel after being out here. I need to know I can do it.” He takes a long look at me, nothing like the face he made a few seconds ago. Not answering my question, he starts to sing. He hops up onto the table, belting out some love song that hasn’t touched my ears in far too long. It’s about a girl, someone left behind, not spoken to. She moved on, and suddenly the singer was the one left behind. It’s sad, and I’m not sure if the song is supposed to represent how we end up, but either way it’s etched into my blood. No matter how I meet my end, it’ll feel like this song. 

“Like that?” I ask, my voice sounding melancholy. It’s hard to feel sad on a sunny day, but somehow I’m the master at it. Show Pony stops mid-song and shakes his head. 

“Oh, no. Not for everyone. Just for me…” he trails off. He looks down and kicks a rock and takes a deep breath before he can face me again. I didn’t realize this was such a tough topic. Maybe I should use my brain next time. 

“No, it’s… It’s like when your whole life is the poster child for the Worst Case Scenario quota.” He nods at his reply, like he’s trying to make himself feel good about it. That’s about as sour of an apple as you can get. There’s no blame to spread, though. Can you imagine being out here for Doc. D knows how long, where your only friends are cacti and tears? Well, I can. When the tides turn and the drugs wear off, you start realizing it ain’t so bad after all. Okay, maybe it is, but you get used to it eventually. That’s what I’m hoping will happen to me.

Show Pony looks minority disgruntled after my brief interrogation, throwing back parts and cursing the blue sky above. Speaking of blue, the soundtrack to my life isn’t sounding overly upright right now. 

“When are we going to stop beating around the bush and hop to it? I’m rearing to get out of this shit hole,” I whine. Show Pony doesn’t stop his work to respond to my impatience. 

“This shit hole goes on and on, brother. Plus, if you don’t quit your whining, the bush might just catch on fire. Can it.” It’s my first instinct to argue back, falling in line with that ‘take no shit’ bracket, but Show Pony doesn’t seem in the mood. I don’t fix that empathy will play a big role in my time out here, once I get used to shooting living things, but this back-ended upside down version of nature might just surprise me. 

“Suit yourself, I’m gonna get some target practice.” I hop off of the roof of the car, leaving Show Pony to his own silence, which I figure it his version of hell, and take a few steps into the desert that surrounds me. There’s a long sigh from behind me, then the glide of skates on concrete. 

“You look like you need a babysitter,” he growls. I can’t tell if that’s a height joke or a newbie joke, but either way I’m no Joker. 

“Mom always wondered why they kept going missing,” I replied cocking my gun. His face twists into a violently excited smile and he’s off down the road before I can shout “fire!”.

**

Show Pony lands infinitely more shots than I do, empty cans of Power Pup incinerated, and a few full ones getting cooked. Bothering to figure out how the guns work seems like a job for Ray, so I’ll hold out curiosity until then. Show Pony narrows his eyes and takes a shot, blowing a hole straight through one of the eyes on the can. He smirks and sits back on his roller blades. He looks endlessly proud of every shot he takes, and maybe it’s that gratification that helps him do so well. 

“Your turn,” he cracks. I loop my finger around the trigger and aim. I shut one eye and focus on the little can. The particles in the air fade the white until only the silhouette of the can is shining. A little glint of sunlight hits my eye, not feeling to great on my likely already sunburned exterior. I ready myself to fire, feeling pretty good about this shot, and-

“BANG BANG, SAYS THE SNIPER TO YOUR LEFT!” Mastermind screams at us. I jump and fire, hitting the can perfectly but not getting time to gloat over it. 

“What’s going on?” Party asks, jogging to keep up with Mastermind’s angry struts. She looks like a battering ram.

“BANG BANG, SAYS THE HOARD OF DRACS THAT COMES DOWN ROUTE GUANO A NOON O’CLOCK!”

“Mastermind-“ Show Pony tries. 

“HELLO CHILDREN, SAYS THE PHOENIX WITCH, TAKING YOUR SOULS UNDER THEIR YELLOW EYES!”

“I swear-“

“AND PONY, IF THAT CAR DON’T DRIVE, I’LL DO THE DRACS’ JOB FOR THEM.” Mastermind takes a few good, long breaths, her eyes doing the talking while she remembers to breathe. 

“Mastermind-“

“Sorry isn’t the word I want to hear out of your mouth, and no one else wants to hear it either. You don’t get to say sorry when your friend is dead because of you, do you? You might think the ‘lingo’ is tough out here, but I’ll play cheat-sheet and tell you something: What’s really tough out here, is never not being out here. You’re a stick in the mud, Ghoul, you’ll sink or you’ll get picked up by something. And you,” she turned exaggeratedly to Show Pony, “you’re no better than a Drac for leading him on that death-march. If you wanna waltz with Destroya, come talk to me. If not, then cook under hell’s heat, see if I care!”

“They don’t call me Fun Ghoul for nothing, Mastermind, and I’ll tell it to Truth herself that it was my idea, so don’t pour the blame where it fits if that’s not where it’s meant to go. Sorry to ruin your saving of the day, but-“

“I watched him get shot, Ghoul. In an inlet, firing over the edge just like a war movie. He was looking at the target that he never even say that one on his back until he could taste his blood in his mouth, so I suggest-“ she took a breath. “That you don’t do the same. It’s rude to steal the way someone dies.” Mastermind walked away, letting her hair fall into her face as she kicked rocks out of her way. A cloud of dust expanded around her feet as she trudged back to the gas station, while the three of us are silent in shock. Show Pony sighs and claps a hand on my back.

“I wish she was kidding.” He too walks down the dirt path towards the gas station, leaving just me and Party, who’s standing so close I can feel him shaking. I drop my line of sight as Mastermind sends a look back at me, right before she goes inside. Standing up to authority doesn’t work when there’s no hierarchy, I guess. 

“Please be more careful,” Party whispers. “If we’re going to find Mikey and Ray, we need to be careful. There’s no we without Fun Ghoul.”

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, dropping every ounce of zone-runner in me. Party is Party, and I’m Fun Ghoul, I get that. Recreating yourself is hard, and some bits of me just haven’t dropped off yet. 

“The only thing I’m mad at is Battery City.”

~

 

We took quite a beating from Mastermind, and despite my urge to apologize, apparently that’s not how to respond. I catch her looking at me over the hours, looking up over a counter or keeping an eye on me from the corner. She’s either mad or paranoid, but those are the only two things to be out here. I shouldn’t feel so special, but maybe I do. 

What if she doesn’t let me and Party leave, now that I royally fucked up? Doc. D is quite the character, but I feel like he’d never be safe rather than sorry. There’s so much to these people that I don’t know about, like what the hell is a Destroya? Who is the Phoenix Witch? Who died out here than meant so much to her? Not just her, but everyone else. Their philosophies that are really just “fuck philosophies” in a nutshell. 

I catch her arm closer to evening, and she doesn’t instantly throw me off, which I’ll take as a good sign. She looks quickly from my hand to my face, and the darkness of her eyes resonates with me. Eyes really are the windows to the soul, and from what I can see, she’s had a lifetime of darkness. Even out here where the sand can bleach a man’s eye, nothing outweighs the darkness of the past. 

She smirks at me, as if I did something to stitch up the outside world. The limits of her patience of her level of tolerance and/or forgiveness is lost on me, and it’s not only her that’s confusing, obviously. Otherwise I’d have at least some of my shit together by now. Then again, it’s only been a few weeks. She drags me out to the shooting range, glowing orange in the fading light. The mischievousness in the air went up about 200% when she pulled me out the door, and I’m not sure the sugar is really so sweet. 

She lets me go, not dropping her pace as she hops and skips over the dusty place. A cloud of dusk flies up into the atmosphere as she skids to a halt, hands on her hips. Her belt flies to the ground, gun in hand and looking less juvenile by the second. Show Pony wasn’t kidding when he said Mastermind is a fearless fighter. For the second, no, wait, third time since I’ve been here, she points her gun at me. 

I don’t even get a word out.

“Don’t say you’re sorry, Ghoul. Show me you are!” she laughs. Malicious isn’t what I’d call her tone, more like she’s pranking me and I am supposed to have figured out the joke by now. 

BANG!

I’m out of the way of the shot, and I don’t know how. She fires again, and I jolt to the side, like I’ve been training for this my whole life. This is different from survival instincts, this is fist fighting Ares. I tuck myself behind a barrel, scrambling for my gun. It appears in my hand and the shooting stops for a second. I jump out, fire a few shots, and jump back down. A purple laser missing my faces by inches, so close that I can feel the heat on my cheek even after it blows a hole in a rock a few meters from me. 

“COME ON!” she almost sounds bored. That’s a challenge I’ll take. 

I bolt out form behind the barrel and race to the other side, hiding around the bend of the shack. A shot breaks a clay pot by my feet. Aiming low? Cold hearted. I keep my gun by my head while I’m not shooting, smiling. I’m smiling? And then I get why- This is fun. How fucked up is that?

I pick up a slice of the broken chins, throw it in the air, aim and- Bang! It smashes into a trillion pieces, throwing bits of clay everywhere. Mastermind shrieks, and for a second I’m worried I did something to hurt her- but she started it. 

“GET WHAT YOU WANT, THEN YOU NEVER WANT IT AGAIN, HUH?” I shout, peeking my face around the bend. Her shot sears the tip of my nose, burning like a motherfucker. Holding back the scream I tried to release, I felt the tip of my nose with my hand. Small amounts of blood shine only dirty hand. I wipe my hands on my pants and look up, squinting at a road sign not too far from me. Now, I was never too great at geometry, but-

I raise my arms and take the shot. It ricochets off of the over heated metal and then there’s a thud. No more shots. Oh, fuck. I race around the bend, and there’s a sack of sand with a smoldering dent in it. Something hot presses against the back of my head.

“Please, I’m not three,” Mastermind spits. Damn, she’s good. But I bet she’s never lived in Jersey. I kick back, nailing her in the knee and ending with a elbow in her face. She yelps and tumbles to the ground, holding her face gently. I pick up her gun and smirk cockily at her, for the first time with reason for doing so. She sighs as I cock her own gun at her and drops her arms. 

“Alright. Just don’t be an idiot from now on. Look over your shoulders more often, Ghoul. I can’t have Show Pony all broken up over his babies getting their heads blown in. He’d shatter,” she said. I can’t really see Show Pony crumbling over our deaths, but I guess I don’t know him well enough then. I drop her gun and hold out a hand for her, to which she scoffs.

“Oh, don’t be gentlemanly. If you lose, you lose. Nothing is going to make that feel better. If you live,” she grumbles, pulling her damn self up. I retract my hand and stuff it in my pocket, despite the sweltering heat. 

“Fine. See if I ever do that again then.” Mastermind seems to have settled, despite the activity we just partook in. Settled, yet needless to day, bitter. Arms crossed, pouty lipped bitterness. Right before the dip in the ground that I fell down the first time, she stops and turns to me. She opens her mouth to speak, but can’t keep a straight face. She grins and pushes me down into the pit. I skid to the bottom, landing on rocks, cactus spines and more. If I don’t get blasted to hell out here, I’m gonna die by some fatal disease. Not like I was a prime example of cleanliness back in the City, but this smarts and the cuts from the escape still haven’t healed completely. I would say she’d gonna get it, but I think losing to me was punishment enough. She has to live with that. I slow to halt and sit up gingerly.

“Maybe next time I won’t go easy on you,” she sighs, skipping past.

“OH, YEAH?”

~

We crash into the diner, me a bloody mess, and her with black make up stains all over her hands and face. She shoves Show Pony at me and bolts through the back door. I throw him to the side and make for her, but Party grabs me.

“You better slam on the breaks or you’re going over the cliffs, Ghoul,” he warns. 

“Thanks, mom,” I growl, pushing him away from me. He holds tight and sends me a glare. I roll my eyes and fire a shot into the ceiling, then holstering my gun and following Party to wherever it is he’s set on stranding me. I didn’t take that “don’t die” advice too well, clearly. He drags me out to the car, where the last rays of light make the spider on the roof look iridescent. Wisps of his red hair flutter in the light breeze, making his face looks blood stained. 

He grabs a towel from the hood of the car and turns back to me. He doesn’t take to his words and use them like bullets, and the element of surprise is yet again proven to be the ultimate example of strange and cruel punishment. His fingertips dust my scratched up chin, and he gently wipes the blood off of my nose. He drops the rag on the railing but the hand cupped to my face never once falters. He looks back at me and gives me a worried look that isn’t all about the chase. Show Pony rolls out of the station and Party tears his hand off of my face, and it feels like a smack- literally and metaphorically. 

“It’s Party time!” he winks. Party throws his head back, groaning over the joke. I pull my hair out of my eyes and squint at him, confused and concerned. “It’s a send off, jive! Help me kick of those jams!” Party and I sent each other identical looks, and Show Pony tolerates the lack of enthusiasm for about negative-point-two seconds. 

“Ugh- come on! You’re not each other’s parents, just have follow me, and it will be Mardi Gras. Let’s have some Fun at the Party!” He roller shakes away before I can scold him for over-use of puns, and this time Party takes to the chase. Good to know he’s not that much of a hard-ass. I was starting to think Mastermind was getting to him. We can’t have that, now can we?

***

The morning air smells different then it does the rest of the day. There’s something about the dawn, the new day, the morning smiles that start your day of right. That smell isn’t there if you stay up all night to wait for it, it’s only ever there after you sleep like the dead. And after Show Pony’s fiasco, I nearly am dead. 

I think I might be the only one awake right now, and I don’t like that. It feels ominous, like something is waiting to strike, and I feel unprepared for whatever that may be. Plus, it feels nice to have a good smile to really wake up to. I don’t reckon Mastermind is willing to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn for some banter with her fave, Show Pony is a rock at night and I couldn’t wake him if I tried, and Doctor D feels like somewhat of a myth right now. That leaves a few others I don’t know, and Party. 

I shake him gently, and when that doesn’t work, I find myself rubbing his shoulder and watching him snooze. He looks so clam, even with that fiery red hair. I never though the fire in his eyes would stop after he became Party Poison, but sleep has some magical power that makes anything possible. Maybe that’s why science hasn’t figured out why we even need to sleep yet. 

Party twitches once, rubs his nose, and stretches like a cat. His long eyelashes flutter until his eyes open for good, and his foggy hazel eyes stare up at me. They’ve always reminded me of home, now more than ever. Even at the early hour, Party still puts on a smile for me. He’s always done that.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I whisper, running my hands through his hair and pulling it out of his eyes. He has red marks on the side of his face from where he was laying against the booth seat, the sign of a good rest. Party smiles brightly at me, scouting himself up and only my lap, where his sleepy head rests and watches me. He rubs his eyes and blinks expressively a few times before tilting his head to the side and giving me a loving look. I’ve never called that look loving before, but it has always been that way. It’s occurring to me that he’s loved me for so much longer than I’ve loved him, and that’s just not fair. 

“Did you sleep well?” I ask quietly, as to not disturb the morning silence that is ever so rare for the diner. He nods up at me, hair splaying all over my legs. I run the backs of my fingers over his cheeks and smile back at him approvingly. He looks like he’s glowing.

“Did you?” he asks. His voice is low and growly from his lack of time using it, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by any part of me. Any part. 

“Yeah. Funky dreams, though. I had one where Ray and Mikey were in the city and they fused together and came back as some super-person.” I didn’t actually have a dream like that, but I knew it would make Party laugh so I went for it anyway. He giggles on my lap, grinning up at me like I hung the stars in the sky. I’d forgotten how little everything else matters when someone loves you. 

“I think I slept so hard the dreams couldn’t even reach me,” he sighs, sitting up. I wrap an arm around him and pull him close, which he seems to like. He puts one hand on my chest and buries his face in the crook of my neck like it’s the best pillow he could ever imagine. I drum my fingers on his shoulder, and he lets out a deep breath and I’ve decided that sound is the most calming thing I’ve ever heard. 

“Don’t fall back asleep on me,” I chuckle under my breath, where only he can hear me. I feel his lips turn up into a smile against my neck, and a little puff of breath from when he laughs. There’s a thump from the corner, and it tears both of us away from the little love-fest we have going. Party slides off my lap and reaches for his gun, that was apparently stranded with his jacket. Mine never leaves me side- not after Mastermind. 

“You don’t sleep with your gun?” I whisper shout.

“You do?” he hisses back. 

I drop the conversation and he follows in suit, creeping over to the source of the noise. A head pops up from behind the counter, messy hair and sleepy eyes. Mastermind looks wrecked from yesterday, the bruise from my elbow turning as purple as her gun. She looks deliriously up at us, wiping a little drool from the corner of her mouth. 

“Good fucking sunshine to you too, stink nugget,” she growls.Party snorts before he can stop himself, and she sends him a look to kill. Theoretically, if looks could kill, Party would be dead as Darwin. Mastermind hops back up onto the counter and rolls over to face away from us, and in turn, the rising sun. I don’t know how she just sleeps up there, out in the open. I’m not going to ask now, and risk another bout of her merciless wrath, so I lower my weapon and follow Party back to our booth. 

“I think stink nugget is my new favorite insult,” he snorts as he sits back down on the seat. You can’t even tell he was asleep a few minutes ago, he looks so alert. I put my face in my palm and watch Party for as long as he’s not watching me. Shameless staring isn’t my forte, and it’s not something I’d like to be caught doing. I guess it’s shameful staring. I guess he’s beautiful. I guess I’ve always known that. 

~

Aside from a few mechanical failures and a paint touch-up here and there, nothing of even minor interest happens that day. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. It’s a day sent from hell, and it only takes seven hours of me whining for Doc. D to figure out I’m fucking bored. Party told me to pick up the guitar but Show Pony sent me a look when Party said it, and I took that as an immediate no. Party doesn’t think I should take that for an answer, but he hasn’t fought Mastermind OR Show Pony. So he doesn’t get an opinion. 

Mastermind and the rest of the gang lead us out to the gas station, where our car sits in all it’s glory. Party likes the spider, but thinks grey is an awful color for a group of rainbow bandits, as he put it. Show Pony gave him a whack on the head when he said that, no explanation. 

The Doctor manually piles us into the car, Party as the driver, and he tries to get me to sit in the front next to him, but I can’t bring myself to. Different car, same feeling. When we get Mikey back, that’s his spot. And he won’t get to say shit to me, because I never sat in it or him. So there. 

The Doctor eventually gives up and wheels around Party’s window. Show Pony is making faces at me through the tinted glass, and I think he’s under the impression I can’t see him. Doc. D snaps his fingers at me angrily. I lean between the front seats to listen. 

“There’s a hive out off of Guano, take the first torch you lay eyes on and pull a one-eighty on it. ‘Bout twenty-two miles in after that. Hurry, or we wont be the first,” he’s giving us our first mission. Holy shit. “Rations in the trunk. Show Pony reports you went fireball on the last motor baby you got your grubby hands on. This one’ll bite you back if you dare pull any of that karate on it.” Party looks down at his hands on the steering wheel and sets them down on his lap instead. Doctor D doesn’t look worried for us, which is ironic since Party looks like he’s going to puke. The Show Pony caters to that. 

He hops the hood and pushes his head own in the window sill, helmet and all. 

“Anyone asks who you are, you tell em. ‘Hello, my name’s Party Poison, and I run this bitch now.’ Only joking, cool the jets,” he laughs when he sees the fear in Party’s eyes. The Doctor pushes him out of the way and he goes right on back to making faces at me. Maybe I should tell him I can see him. 

“If you don’t respond to the radio calls within a day or two, we’ll come snooping. Otherwise, you’re presumed dead. Welcome to the family, kids. Even if you’re not allowed to have any.” I might be fluent in zone-runner, but even that last part didn’t make sense. 

“Huh?”

“Go! Before you get rats ass!” he shoos us off, wheeling back towards the gas station to the others. I never got to learn the names of the other two, and if I die on this mission, unlikely but possible, I’ll never get to learn them. Funny how that works. Mastermind gives the two of us an encouraging smile, motioning to buckle up, and smiling. Doctor Death-Defying gives us a two figured salute, and Show Pony flips us off with both of his hands. Party slams on the gas, as we take off into the desert. The same one we’ll probably die in.

I stick my head out my window and call out.

“I CAN SEE YOU, PONY!” He shrieks something vile and starts balding after us, but Mastermind catches him and he ends up with a face full of dirt. I laugh into the wind, long hair whipping behind me as I watch the plants fly past me. When we first got out here, I was sure I was going to die out here, and now I know that I will, someday. 

Funny how that works. 

~

Doctor Death-Defying must be on all sorts of shit, because that “hive” he spoke of is nothing more than an upturned big-rig, with a half dozen dracs without communication to the city. That last part is helpful for us, since we are beginners, but Doc. D sure talks a big game. I won’t pipe down on this one. 

And once again, we sure know how to pick the locations. There was a diner back with the gang, and here there is nothing but yourself and who you wish you were. Scary, right? Party parks the car on a ridge with a telephone booth that very obviously does not work. He tries it, regardless. Surprise, surprise, he comes back disappointed.

“I told you-“

“Yeah, yeah, you big-headed oaf. I know,” he grumbles. I grin and lean back against a rock, smiling at the fire he built just before he went on his exhibition. I was against building it at first, because who knows what might happen if the dracs see us? There’s six of them and two of us, and I can almost promise you they have more military experience then a couple of newbie nomads. 

Party sits down not too far from me, heating two cans of Power Pup by the fire. Not sure it will do much to improve the taste, but it’s worth a try, I suppose. He looks sullen all of the sudden, and I can’t name a single thing to pinpoint that on. The look on his face reads recognition, and that doesn’t sound too fun for me either. I’m sure there’s a lot of things I have to deal with and recognize, and I can’t even remember them right now. Party once again does my brain’s job for it.

“We’re never going back. Is that a good thing?” he asks solemnly, staring into the fire like it was whispering the secrets of the universe in his ears. Uh oh. Homesickness. The orange flames lap at the circle of rocks containing them, snickering at us. An ember decides to jump that fence, and lands in the dirt. I put it out with my foot, trying to decipher the best answer to give.

“We are going back. To get Mikey and Ray.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t think we can answer that yet.” I think there’s a lot more to this than we know, and I don’t know when we’re ever going to find out how much. Party doesn’t look impatient to figure that out, he doesn’t even look like he’s willing to find out.

“You know what I’m going to miss the most?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood. “Swimming pools.” Party laughs loudly, cupping a hand to his mouth and shrinking down almost immediately. I sneak a glance of the ledge that’s not too far from us, but the dracs seem preoccupied with not knowing what to do. I scuttle back over to him as he’s lowering his hand from his mouth, still smiling shyly. 

“Fair enough,” he whispers. “You know what I’ll miss?”

“What?”

“Showering,” he chuckles sadly. I groan, putting m face in my hans. That’s one of many problematic aspects of our new life, and it’s probably one of the worst. I was disgusting before we got abducted out here, and I’m not even sure I’m human now. 

“If there’s running water, we can figure it out. Even if that seems to be just about the only thing we can figure out around here. I still remember the first time I heard them open their fat traps. It was like learning a new language,” I gossip. Party scoffs in agreement. 

“I take them and their beliefs over Battery City any day.” I haven’t had the time to ask around about what they believe in, despite my absolute boredom from earlier today. I never go tot ask about the Phoenix Witch, or whatever the hell Destroya is. I never got to learn the names of the runners we left back at the diner and gas station. There’s a lot of things I haven’t done. 

“Do you know anything about those? Their beliefs, I mean,” I ask subtly. Party cracks his neck and stares into the orange depths of the fire once again. 

“Mastermind gave the beginners guide, but I think Doc. D would give a much better explanation. Essentially, the Phoenix Witch is something like the Grim Reaper, only she doesn’t bring death, necessarily. What she does is collects the souls once they’ve died, and she brings them to a better place, sort of. As for Destroya…” he raises his eyebrows and gives me a crazy look. “Destroya is a big metal robot that will one day bring the downfall of Battery City. There’s supposed to be pieces of it scattered everywhere, and one day it will join together again and set everyone within the city free, or something like that. I really don’t know. Tune into Doc. D’s radio show for more than your fair share of absolute fuckery!” That’s enough for me to take in for the night. Goodnight, I don’t need to hear another word. But the idea of there being this being that could fix all of our collective problems is appealing. Really appealing.

“I dunno, Party. It could be nice to have something to believe in again,” I reason.

“I believe in you,” he mutters. Isn’t that enough? I don’t think I’m good enough to do anything such as bring down the city, but it’s nice that Gee thinks I’m some sort of God. I hate to disappoint, but the city’s got a few ghosts in it’s closet and I’m not one for cleaning. 

“Back in the city,” I begin, hoping I’ll find where I’m taking this sentence somewhere along the way. “I was lost. For words, for anything. If you’re going to grow up in a place like that, what’s the point at all? I think the only thing that kept me going was you and the guys. We were rebellion in the eye of the storm, but we couldn’t quite reach the battlefield. Well, here we are. And you feel so alone when you fight for something, and maybe that’s because we’re missing Ray and Mikey, or maybe that’s just how it is. Either way, I’m glad I have you. That’s… that’s what I wanted to say.” It’s not an ‘I love you’, but it’s as close as I can get. I look up from the fire, which seems to be sparking proudly at me, and look into deep and teary eyes.

“Same to you. The world seems a little less shitty with you in it. I…” he stops there instead and shakes his head, looking back down the fire. He furrows his brow and clenches his jaw, and he looks pained. I knows what he was going to say, but that was so much easier before we knew what was happening to us. When we were lost. Does this qualify as being found? And then it all circles back to life or death and that thought comes right on back, only this time he gets the words out before I can.

“We’re going to die out here.”

“Probably,” I mutter before I can stop myself. He lets out a gasp-like breath and drops his head into his hands.

“Then what’s the point? I don’t like fighting, I don’t like killing or shooting, we shouldn’t have to rebel at all!”

“Then we won’t kill or shoot, and we’ll turn what’s left of this world around until we don’t have to rebel anymore. That might not be in our lifetimes, but if you live every day thinking you’re going to die, then there’s no reason to be alive. On the other hand, if you live ever day expecting to live and save the day, you’re never fulfilled. You’re either nihilistic or arrogant, and we can’t afford to be either, unlike some people. We’ll toe the line, and that line is called the zones, all one bajillion of them,” I’m talking as self-therapy and I hate to say it, but it’s working. On me, at least.

Party doesn’t seem shaken in the slightest, so I take to my feet and bounce. I sit down next to him, plopping down on the ashy ground. I wrap an arm around him, and point to the sky. His eyes glow as he turn his head towards the sky, examining all the speckles that appear like glitter against the blackness. The sky looked different in the city. Out here you can pretend they’re real stars, not satellites. BL/ind took down all the stars. 

“If you look far enough, maybe you can find one that’s real,” Gee inquires. He still looks blue, but he never got to tears, and that leads me to believe I made the right decision by joining him. I don’t think that ugly sentence he just uttered helped either of us that much. I’ll try for something better.

“It’s not perfect, Party. And that means we can fix it.” He tears his eyes away from the sky and looks over me carefully. I tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, smiling gently at him. He looks worried, his brows are still slightly creased, and his mouth is upturned in an untrusting manner. I press a kiss on his nose and look back up to the black sky. I can still feel his eyes on the side of my face as I examine the farthest reaches my eyes can see, but he doesn’t seem so distressed. It’s almost like he’s… content. And that’s good because I can’t imagine a better picture than the two of us looking at the sky together.

~

“Ghoul! Ghoul, wake up! There’s people!” Party whisper shouts in my face. I reach for my gun, and surprisingly it’s a little damp. Everything appears damp. Morning dew is the last thing I expected to see out here, especially with the added bonus of the sky showing no sign of wet weather. It’s just as cloudless as it has been every day I’ve been here. Party kicks me lightly on my side, urging me to move faster. 

My instincts are on vacation, which isn’t too great for my life span. I crawl onto my knees, stretch, and take the final step. He pulls me up with his hand, leading towards the end of the shelf we’re upon. He drops to his knees and leans down onto his stomach, just peeking down into the valley. I follow in suit, since he seems to know what he’s doing, as opposed to me. I’m glad he’s gonna be leading the team. I need a shirt that says “I smile because I have no clue what’s going on”. He points down to the big-rig, where only one drac stands guard. Idiot. 

“I can’t wait to teach him a lesson,” I smirk. Party nods in agreement, an evil smirk. But it fades as soon as it came, and he blues considerably. I put a hand on his back, urging him silently to spill what’s come over him. He doesn’t look very keen on the mission all of the sudden, and I think I can guess what’s bugging him.

“I can do it, if you want,” I intone. He looks over at me out of the corner of his eyes and smiles meekly. 

“Nah. I’ll deal with it as long as I can look them in the eyes. Killing mindlessly seems even more heartless. This is a raven’s nest of doom, and I’d like to think myself somewhere above it all. It’s not really like that, but it helps the mind,” replies Party morosely. That is strangely helpful, I suppose it’s the honesty in watching the life drain out of your victim, rather than pretending it never happened. It’s like the military versus the militia, although I’m sure either of those things are too good. 

“Over there,” Party points, “to your left. Just below the road there’s four guys. I think they crashed their car, or something like that. Look- they don’t have half a clue, do they?” He’s completely correct, the kids down in the gash look as lost as can be. Two of them are arguing, one is having a smoke, and the fourth is sitting on the roof of the car, face down. Something glints from sun to my eyes, and it doesn’t feel to dandy. Only one type of metal burns that sort of hole in your face. 

“Is that- Do they have guns?” I ask. 

“Looks like it.”

“It’s a trap!” I mimic the infamous line from Star Wars, and Party sends me an exasperated glance. My quip seems to have set him over the edge, and he lets out a series of impatient sighs, since he nor I have anything better to say. 

“Well, butter me up, morning-glory. We’ve got a deadline and I don’t want to be the dead part. Capiche?” he sours. 

“Roger, Party.” He smiles widely, and for the first time since we’ve gotten out here, the sunlight reflects happiness off of his face. The adrenaline seems to have finally pulled him back up from hell or wherever else he was, and brought him to the dark side, if you get my gist. 

Party demands we take a back route to be sneaky, I contend that the dracs could’ve sent out a patrol, but he neglects my opinion. The dusty winds spits out fleets of gravel into my eyes, but Party seems unconcerned. He pulled on a mask a few minutes ago, and I haven’t the slightest idea of where he was hiding it. The orange lenses paint his eyes a fiery gold, and he looks ecstatic. The rock formations feel like a slide under my boots, which apparently have never been worn in before. The bottom of the cliff is flatter, rockier, and more… hollow. Hollow means echoes, and Party, a college graduate, doesn’t seem to grasp that. What do you do when you’re practically in a cave and supposed to be sneaking up on someone? Talk, says Party’s brain.

“W-“

“Sh, Party,” I hiss at him. He brings his hand to his lips and zips them shut once and for all. About time. I cock my gun and star him down until he nods me to go on. He takes a look behind himself and sniffs the air. He spits on the ground and nods at me. What a guy.

I pivot around and take a breath. 

“Hey, ladies and germs.” 

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. It’s like a light switch, shooting someone in the face. Click, lights out. It;s violently beautiful and I never want to do it again. Party takes a miserable breath and puts an arm on my shoulder, breathing heavily. For once, it feels like there’s nothing worth saying. He spits again and claps me on the back, hopping into the front of the big-rig. There’s a commotion from the lower ground, with what sounds like a punch and then the scraping of guns from the ground. I jog over to the front of the truck, and tug on Party’s sleeve. 

“I think the toddlers are learning to walk, better beat it!” I gasp, dragging him out of the truck and towards our only means of escape. I don’t want to fight anyone else today, except maybe myself. I feel like kicking my own ass right now. Party and I beat those dracs so well, I don’t think they ever even existed. I deserve an ass beating. 

Party takes my hand as I run singularly up the mountain. From up on the ridge, I can just barely see the kids looking at the murder scene. One kicks the head of a drac, and watches it do absolutely nothing. That’s all I see before I climb into the car, and it takes off the opposite direction of the kids. My door doesn’t even shut before the dust starts to reach for the sky. 

“That was close to a smoke-out. I’m already panting,” I laugh tiredly.

“Good point, and I don’t want to spend one more blasted second in this dump. Radio in that daddy’s coming home from the war,” Party replies, handing my the speaker for the radio. You know that they say, don’t radio and drive. 

“Wait until they find out the war followed us home,” I sigh approvingly. It never does leave you, but there’s something charming about fearing for your life. It builds character. I lean forward and press my hand onto Party’s heart, to feel the speed at which it’s beating. With my eyes on the speedometer, I can feel the gasoline in his veins. He takes a hand off the wheel and grabs mine, bringing it to his lips. Careful, Party. You might just light me on fire. 

***

Party slams his door, displaying how pleased he is with himself. The drive back was hell, since he figured out how good a driver he is. Shooting isn’t his thing, but he can drive like a motherfucker. I head for the archway towards the door, but Party and his new cockiness step in my way. He takes a step forward and I take one back. One forward, one back and so on. He grabs the same rag from not too may days ago, and starts wiping some of the blood spatter off of my face. I doubt a dry, dusty rag will do much to scrub away dried blood, but I don’t think that was his intention anyway. He takes another step forward, and I don’t move, and then his lips come crashing into mine. He drops the rag and wraps both arms around my neck, groaning lightly against my lips. 

One of my hands stays firmly on his hip, the other is cupped against the curve of his back, under his shirt. He opens his lips, cueing me to do what I’ve been wanting to do for a long time now. I graze his lower lip with my tongue, pulling him closer to my body until our foreheads meet and I can feel his eyelashes flutter against my cheeks. I can feel his heart beat through his shirt and mine, speeding up with eye move I make. I nod forward, pressing my tongue into his mouth further, and he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks out of pure pleasure. 

No more sounds are entering my brain, none that he isn’t making. Nothing I’ve ever done has felt simultaneously so fulfilling and so pleasing, and I intend to make this feeling common in my heart. Speaking of which, my heart needs to calm the hell down. The butterflies that once inhabited my stomach have taken acid-or something of the sort-, and are bat-shit crazy currently. I bite down hard on his lower lip and he lets go of my hair completely and instead digs his dirty nails into my neck. I wonder how long he’d wanted this before we got stranded out here. I wonder how long I have. Most importantly, and completely off-topic, I wonder what in the shitting hell is making such a riot inside, but I won’t dare move a muscle. Unless you count the tongue. 

A pitter-patter of footsteps rains across the asphalt, and that information goes in one ear and out the other, because instead of doing anything to put myself in check, I let my fingers slide down his body from their already low positions, to yet lower ones. This is a rebellion, Ghoul. Not a porno. 

“HEY- oh. Wow. Okay, um… Kids?” Mastermind yelps. Party and I untie our human knot in a flash to face her fondly. Party’s smiling like we fixed Battery City once and for all, and I’m just trying not to look too obviously flustered. He starts chatting with her immediately, but she keeps her eyes on me, confused and a little disgruntled at the situation. I don’t know which part she finds the most questionable, but regardless I have hell to pay, for some reason. All of this staring draws me back to the Doctor’s comment that I couldn’t quite figure out, back before the mission. 

I think it’s starting to make sense, and I don’t like that one bit. 

She sweetly sets a hand on Party’s shoulder and pushes past him, b-lining for me instead. With a harsh smack on the back, she tails me as we meander into the diner. I try to look over my shoulder, but Mastermind sticks a finger into my cheek and forces my gaze back forward. Party is left in the dirt by the car.

Show Pony gushes over me as I enter, and then flocks to the door for Party. I think he favors him over me. Mastermind pulls me into the back room, dubbed the costume room by the one and only me, and shuts the door tightly. 

“Sit.”

“Why?”

“Listen, bitch, I don’t like being mama bird, but sometimes I gotta force feed you the laws of the land. If you don’t sit on your own I will hulk-smash you into oblivion, so smack. Down, boy.”

“Listen here ‘mama bird’, how about I throw you out the goddamn nest!” Mastermind sighs irritatedly, and sits herself down first. Now that she’s into showing some respect, maybe I’ll just play along. I plop down on a closed paint can and put on my listening ears.

“Ghoul, I don’t know Party Poison as well as I know you, so that’s why he’s listenING THROUGH THE DOOR, I CAN SEE YOUR FEET, POISON!” There’s a gasp and then rushed and faltering footsteps away from the door. “Anyway, here’s what I came to force feed you. See this gun?” she asks, pulling hers out of her hip-holster.

“Mhm.” The she turns it on me and shuts an eye. I’m used to it by now, from her at least.

“If I were to pull the trigger right now, what would happen to Party?” Ah, geez. 

“He’d probably be very emotional.” She claps her hands together, gun and all, and leans back against nothing, which looks very uncomfortable. 

“You see? Friends are forever, but love stings until it fizzles out. Then what?” I say nothing and stare at her with raised eyebrows. “Okay, you’re not getting it. I don’t know what sort of funk you’ve got going on, but if one of the two of you gets ghosted, it won’t end well. Or, if you live and let love die, then you’re fucked-cubed. The only strings we allow to be attached out here are those holding you down to Earth. Get it?”

“…No?”

“Oh, for fucks sake. You’re not allowed to date anyone, fuckwad. If he gets decked, then you’re more fucked than he’ll ever make you. It gets messy and we can’t afford any more of that,” Mastermind practically shrieks. 

“So then why are you allowed to be friends?”

“I’m going to throw a desk at you.”

“Seriously! If you’re trying to prohibit emotional connection, then why do we team up? Why do we make friends? Hell, why do we have emotions? I might as well go back to Battery City!” I contend, getting heated.

“Let me know how Korse’s feet taste, since you’ll be doing so much foot sucking if you go back,” Mastermind sighs miserably.

“Who?”

“Oh, never mind. Just… you need to cut off everything between you and Party real quick, or you’ll be getting the boot real soon. You’re a fine shot, but it takes more than that to survive, Ghoul.” Mastermind stands up quickly, matching me. I don’t even remember taking to my feet, but here I am. She leans in towards my ear and whispers,

“Or, just be lightning bugs. Flash on and off in the dark and blend in during the day. No one catches them when the sun’s out, do they?” she hints. There’s too many emotions spinning through my head for me to give her any form of reaction, so I coerce myself out of the room alone. The Doctor stops me almost instantly, smiling at me from under his sunglasses and bandana. I gulp.

“You bat-rats will shape up yet.” I think that’s a compliment. Not sure.

He wheels away like a mouse packing C4, revealing Party standing across the room, staring at me. Show Pony is not too far away, talking to another runner, nervously eyeing Party. As I approach, the more I can see the sparkly gems of water beading from his eyes. Maybe Mastermind didn’t scare him away after all. His lip sticks out and quivers in fear, and I envelop him in a hug. Just when the going get better, it gets tough. That’s becoming an unwanted pattern.


End file.
